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AMERICAN NOTES,

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REPRINTED PIECES.

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BY

CHARLES DICKENS.

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WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS.

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LONDON:

HA^M^AN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY

1868.

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LONDON :
PRINTED HY VIRTUE AND CO.,
Crrv ROAD.

"I

PREFACE.

My readers have opportunities of judging for themselves whether
the influences and tendencies which I distrusted in America, had, at
that time, any existence but in my imagination. They can examine
for themselves whether there has been anything in the public career
of that country since, at home or abroad, which suggests that those
influences and tendencies really did exist. As they And the fact, they
will judge me. If they discern any evidences of wrong-going, in any
direction that I have indicated, they will acknowledge that I had
reason in what I wrote. If they discern no such indications, they
will consider me altogether mistaken— but not wilfully.

Prejudiced, I am not, and never have been, otherwise than in favour
of the United States. I have many friends in America, I feel a
grateful interest in the country, I hope and believe it will successfully
work out a problem of the highest importance to the whole human
race. To represent me as viewing America with ill-nature, coldness,
or animosity, is merely to do a very foolish thing : which is always a
very easy one.

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AMERICAN NOTES.

CHAPTER I.

GOING A WAV.

T SHALT, never forpct tlie one-fourtli serious and three-fourths comical astonish-
ment, with which, on the morning of the third of
forty-two, I opened tiie door of, and put my head

ment, with which, on the morning of the third of January cighteen-hundred-and-

ny head mto, a *• state-room " on board
the iiritannia steam-packet, twelve hundrecl tons burthen per register, bound for

Halifax and Boston, and carrying Her Majesty's mails.

That this state-room had i)een specially engaged for "Charles Dickens, Esquire,
and Lady," was rentiered suHiciently clear even to my scared intellect by a very
small manuscript, announcing the fact, which was pinned on a very flat quilt,
covering a veiy thin mattress, spread like a surgical plaster on a most maccessible
shelf, liut that this was the state-room concerning which Charles Dickens,
Esquire, and Lady, had held daily and nightly conferences for at least four months
preceding ; that this could by any possibility be that small snug chamber of the
imagination, which Charles Dickens, Esquire, with the spirit of prophecy strong
upon him, had always foretold would contain at least one little sofa, and which his
lady, with a modest yet most magnificent sense of its limited dimensions, had from
the first opined would not hold more than two enormous portmanteaus in some
odd corner out of sight (portmanteaus which could now no more be got in at the
door, not to say stowed away, than a giraffe could be persuaded or forced into a
flower-pot) : that this utterly impracticable, thoroughly hopeless, and profoundly
preposterous box, had the remotest reference to, or connection with, those chaste
and pretty, not to say gorgeous little bowers, sketched by a masterly hand, in the
highly varnished lithographic plan hanging up in the agent's counting-house in
the city of London : that this room of state, in short, could be anything but a
pleasant fiction and cheerful jest of the captain's, invented and put in practice for
the better relish and enjoyment of the real state-room presently to be disclosed : —
these were truths which I really could not, for the moment, bring my mind at all
to bear upon or comprehend. And I sat down upon a kind of horsehair slab, or
perch, of which there were two within ; and looked, without any expression of
countenance whatever, at some friends who had come on board with us, and who
were crushing their faces into all manner of shapes by endeavouring to squeeze
them through the small doorway.

We had experienced a pretty smart shock before coming below, which, but that
we were the most sanguine people living, might have prepared us for the wornt.

B

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American Notes.

The imaginative artist to whom I have already made alhision, has depicted in the
same great work, a chamber of almost interminable perspective, furnished, as Mr.
Kobins would say, in a style of more than Eastern splendour, and filled (but not
inconveniently so) with groups of ladies and gentlemen, in the very highest state
of enjoyment and vivacity. Before descending into the bowels of the ship, we had
passed from the deck in*o a long narrow apartment, not unlike a gigantic hearse
with windows in the sides ; having at the upper end a melancholy stove, at which
three or four chilly stewards were warming their hands ; while on either side, ex-
tending down its whole dreary length, was a lon.^, long table, over each of which a
rack, fixed to the low roof, and stuck full of drinking-glasses and cnigt-stands,
hinted dismally at rolling seas and heavy weather. I had not at that time seen
the ideal presentment of this chjlmber which has s-ire gratified me so much, but
1 obseiTcd that one of our friends who had made the arra.igements for our voyage,
turned pale on eiitering, retreated on the friend behind him, smote his forehead
involuntarily, and said iDelovv his breath, "Impossible! it cannot be!" or words
to that effect. He recovered himself however by a great effort, and after a pre-
paratory cough or two, cried, wiih a ghastly smile which is still before me, looking
at the same time round the walls, " Ha ! the breakfast-room, steward — eh .?" We
all foresaw what the answer must be : we knew the agony he suffered. He had
often spoken of the saloon ; had taken in and lived upon the pictorial idea ; had
usually given us to understand, at home, that to f.orm a just conception of it, it
would be necessary to multiply the size and furniture of an ordinary drawing-room
by seven, and then fall short of the reality. When llie man in reply avowed the
tnith ; the blunt, remorseless, naked truth ; '* This is the saloon, sir " — he actually
reeled beneath the blow.

In persons who were so soon to part, and interjiose between their else daily
communication the formidable banier of many thousand miles of stormy space,
and who were for that reason anxious to east no other cloud, not even the passing
shadow of a moment's disappointment or discomfiture, upon the short interval of
happy companionship that yet remained to them — in persons so situated, the
natural transition from these first surprises was obviously into peals of hearty
laughter, and I can report that I, for one, being still seated upon the slab or percn
before-mentioned, roared outright until the vessel rang again. Thus, in less than
two minutes after coming upon it for the first time, we all by common consent
agreed that this state-room was the pleasantest and most facetious and capital
contrivance possible ; and that to have had it one inca larger, would have been
quite a disagreeable and deplorable state of things. And with this; and with
showing how, — by very nearly closing the door, and twining in and out like
serpents, and by counting the little washing slab as standing-room, — we could
manage to insinuate four people into it, all at one time ; and entreating each other
to observe how very airy it was (in dock), and how there was a beautiful port -hole
which could be kept open all day (weather permitting), and how there was quite a
large bull's-eye just over the looking-glass which would render shaving a perfectly
easy and delightful process (when the ship didn't roll too much) ; we arrived, at
last, at the unanimous conclusion that it Avas rather spacious than otherwise :
though I do verily believe that, deducting the two berths, one above the other,
than which nothing smaller for sleeping in was ever made except coffins, it was
no bigger than one of those hackney cabriolets which have the door bejiind, and
shoot their fares out, like sacks of coals, upon the pavement.

Having settled this point to the perfect satisfaction of all parties, concerned and
unconcerned, we sat down round the fire in the ladies' cabin — just to try the effect.
It was rather dark, certainly ; but somebody said, " of course it would be light, at
sea," a proposition to which we all assented; echoing "of course, of cour&e;"

Pleasant Stewardesi.

as depicted in the
furnished, as Mr.
md filled (but not
very highest state
f the ship, we had
a gigantic hearse
)ly stove, at which
on cither side, ex-
er each of which a
and cmgt-stands,
at that time seen
1 me so much, but
nts for our voyage,
note his forehead
ot be !" or words

and after a pre-
jeforc me, looking
ward — eh ?" We
suffered. He had
■)ictorial idea ; had
onception of it, it
lary drawing-room

reply avowed the
, sir" — he actually

sn their else daily
s of stormy space, ~|
ot even the passing
he short interval of
is so situated, the
to peals of hearty
)n the slab or perch

Thus, in less than
y common consent
:etious and capital
% would have been
dth this; and with
ig in and out like
g-room, — we conld
itreating each other

beautiful port -hole
w there was quite a

shaving a perfectly
ch) ; we arrived, at
LIS than otherAvise :
le above the other,
xcept coffins, it was
le door bejiind, and

rties, concerned and

just to try the effect.

it would be light, at

course, of conr&e ;"

though it would be exceedingly difficult to say why we thought so. I remember,
too, when we had discovered and exhausted another topic of consolation in the
circumstance of this ladies' cabin adjoining our state-room, and the consequently
immense feasibility of sitting there at all times and seasons, and had fallen into a
momentary silence, leaning our faces on our hands and looking at the fire, one of
our party said, with the solemn air of a man who had made a discovery, " What
a relish mulled claret will have down here I" which appeared to strike us all most
forcibly ; as though there were something spicy and high-flavoured in cabins,
which essentially' improved that composition, and rendered it quite incapable of
perfection anywhere else.

There was a stewardess, too, actively engaj^.ed in producing clean sheets and
tablecloths from the very entrails of the '^ofas, and from unexpected lockers, of
such artful mechanism, that it made one's head ache to see them opened one after
another, and rendered it quite a distracting circumstance to follow her proceed-
ings, and to find that every nook and comer and individual piece of furniture was
something else besides what it pretended to be, and was a mere trap and
deception and place of secret stowage, whose ostensible purpose was its least use-
ful one.

God bless that stewardess for her piously fraudulent account of January voyages !
God bless her for her clear recollection of the companion passage of last year,
when nobody was ill, and ever)'body dancing from morning to night, and it was
"a run" oi twelve days, and a piece of the purest frolic, and delight, and jollity !
All happiness be with her for her bright face and her pleasant Scotch tongue,
which had sounds of old Home in it for my fellow traveller ; and for her predic-
tions of fair winds and fine weather (all wTong, or I shouldn't be half sa fond of
her) ; and for the ten thousand small fragments of genuine womanly tact, by
which, without piecing them elaborately tog.^ther, and patching them up into
shape and form and case and pointed applicaiion, she nevertheless did plainly
show that all young mothers on one side of the Atlantic were near and close at
hand to their little children left upon the other ; and that what seemed to the
iminitiated a serious journey, was, to those who were in the secret, a mere frolic,
to be sung about and whistled at ! Light be her heart, and gay her merry eyes,
for years !

The state-room had grown pretty fast ; but by this time it had expanded into
something quite bulky, and almost boasted a bay-window to view the sea from.
So we went upon deck again in high spirits ; and there, everything was in such a
state of bustle and active preparation, that the blood quickened its pace, and
whirled through one's veins on that clear frosty morning with involuntary mirth-
fulness. For every gallant ship was riding slowly up and down, and every little
boat was splashing noisily in the water ; and knots of people stood upon the
whUrf, gazing with a kind of " dread delight " on the far-famed fast American
steamer; and one party of men were "taking in the milk," or, in other words,
getting the cow on board ; and another were filling the icehouses to the very
throat with fresh provisions ; with butchcrs'-meat and gardenstuff, pale sucking-
pigs, calves' heads in scores, beef, veal, and pork, and poultiy out of all propor-
tion ; and others were coiling ropes and busy with oakum yains ; and others were
lowering heavy packages into the hold ; and the purser's head was barely visible
as it loomed in a state of exquisite perplexity from the midst of a vast pile of
passengers' luggage ; and there seemed to be nothing going on anywhere, or
uppermost in the mind of anybody, but preparations for this mighty voyage. This,
with the bright cold sun, the bracing air, the crisply-curling water, the thin wJiite
crust of morning ice upon the decks which crackled with a sharp and cheerful
sound beneath the lightest tread, was irresistible. And when, again upon the

Vc*"

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American Notes,

shore, we turned and saw from the vessel's mast her name signalled in flags of
joyous colours, and fluttering by their side the beautiful American banner with its
stars and stripes, — the long three thousand miles and more, and, longer still, the
six whole months of absence, so dwindled and faded, that the ship had gone out
and come home again, and it was broad spring already in the Coburg Dock at
Liverpool.

I have not inquired among my medical acquaintance, whether Turtle, and cold
Punch, with Hock, Champagne, and Claret, and al^ the slight et cetera usually
included in an unlimited order for a good dinner — especially when it is left to the
HI )ral construction of my faultless friend, Mr. Radley, of the Adelphi Hotel — are
peculiarly calculated to suffer a sea-change ; or whether a plain mutton-chop, and
a glass or two of sherry, would be less likely of conversion into foreign and dis-
concerting material. My own opinion is, that whether one is discreet or indiscreet
in these particulars, on the eve of a sea-voyage, is a matter of little consequence ;
and that, to use a common phrase, " it comes to very much the same thing in the
end." Be this as it may, I know that the dinner of that day was undeniably per-
fect ; that it comprehended all these items, and a great many more ; and that we
all did ample justice to it. And I know too, that, bating a certain tacit avoid-
ance of any allusion to to-morrow ; such as may be supposed to prevail between
deUcate-minded turnkeys, and a sensitive prisoner who is to be hanged next morn-
ing ; we got on very well, and, all things considered, were merry enough.

When the morning — the morning — came, and we met at breakfast, it was curious
to see how eager we all were to prevent a moment's pause in the conversation,
and how astoundingly gay everybody was : the forced spirits of each member of
the little party having as much likeness to his natural mirth, as hot-house peas at
five guineas the quart, resemble in flavour the growth of the dews, and air, and rain
of Heaven. But as one o'clock, the hour for going aboard, drew near, this volubility
dwindled away by little and little, despite the most persevering efforts to the con-
trary, until at last, the matter being now quite desperate, we threw off all disguise ;
openly speculated upon wher^ we should be this time to-monow, this time next
day, and so forth ; and entrusted a vast number of messages to those who intended
returning to town that night, which were to be delivered at home and elsewhere
without fail, within the very shortest possible space of time after the arrival of the
railway train at Euston Square. And commissions and remembrances do so crowd
upon one at such a time, that we were still busied with this employment when we
found ourselves fused, as it were, into a dense conglomeration of passengers and
passengers' friends and passengers' luggage, all jumbled together on the deck of
a small steamboat, and panting and snorting off to the packet, which had worked
•out of dock yesterday afternoon and was now lying at her moorings in the river.

And there she is ! all eyes are turned to where she lies, dimly discernible
through the gathering fog of the early winter afternoon ; ever,r finger is pointed in
•the same direction ; and murmurs of interest and admiration — as " How beautiful
she looks !" ** How trim she is !" — are heard on every side. Even the lazy gentle-
man with his hat on one side and his hands in his pockets, who has dispensed so
much consolation by inquiring with a yawn of another gentleman whether he is
" going across" — as if it were a ferry — even he condescends to look that way, and
nod his head, as who should say, ** No mistake about that :''^ and not even the
sage Lord Burleigh in his nod, included half so much as this lazy gentleman of
might who has made ^\q passage (as everybody on board has found out already ;
it's impossible to say how) thi. *een times mthout a single accident ! There is
another passenger very much wrapped-up, who has been frowned down by the
rest, and morally trampled upon and crushed, for presuming to inquire with a
timid interest how long it is since the poor President went down. He is standing

Tender alongside.

5

close to the lazy gentleman, and says with a faint smile that he believes She is a
very strong Ship ; to which the lazy gentleman, looking first in his questioner's
eye and then very hard in the wind's, answers unexpectedly and omini usly, that
She need be. Upon this the lazy gentleman instantly falls very luw in the
popular estimation, and the passengers, with looks of defiance, whisper to each
other that he is an ass, and an impostor, and clearly don't know anything at all
about it.

But we are made fast alongside the packet, whose huge red funnel is smoking
bravely, giving rich promise of serious intentions. Packing-cases, portmanteaus,
carpet-bags, and boxes, are already passed from hand to hand, and hauled on
board with breathless rapidity. The officers, smartly dressed, are at the gangway
handing the passengers up the side, and hurrying the men. In five minutes' time,
the little steamer is utterly deserted, and the packet is beset and over-run by its
late freight, who instantly pervade the whole ship, and are to be met with by the
dozen in every nook and comer : swarming down below with their own baggage,
and stumbling over other people's ; disposing themselves comfortably in wrong
cabins, and creating a most horrible confusion by having to turn out again ; madly
bent upon opening locked doors, and on forcing a passage into all kinds of out-of-
the way places where there is no thoroughfare ; sending wild stewards, with elfin
hair, to and fro upon the breezy decks on unintelligible errands, impossible of
execution : and in short, creating the most extraordinary and bewildering tumult.
In the midst of all this, the lazy gentleman, who seems to have no luggage of any
kind — not so much as a friend, even — lounges up and down the hurricane deck,
coolly puffing a cigar ; and, as this unconcerned demeanour again exalts him in
the opinion of those who have leisure to observe his proceedings, every time he
looks up at the masts, or down at the decks, or over the side, they look there too,
as wondering whether he sees anything wrong anywhere, and hoping that, in case
he should, he will have the goodness to mention it.

What have we here ? The captain's boat ! and yonder the captain himself.
Now, by all our hopes and wishes, the very man he ought to be ! A well-made,
tight-built, dapper little fellow ; with a ruddy face, which is a letter of invitation
to shake him by both hands at once ; and with a clear, blue honest eye, that it does
one good to see one's sparlding image in. *' Ring the bell !" "Ding, ding, ding!"
the very bell is in a hurry. " Now for the shore — who's for the shore ?" — " These
gentlemen, I am sorry to say." They are away, and never said. Good b'ye. Ah !
now they wave it from the little boat. " Good b'ye ! Good b'ye!" Three cheers
from them ; three more from us ; three more from them : and they are gone.

To and fro, to and fro, to and frQ again a hundred times ! This waiting for the
latest mail-bags is worse than all. If we could have gone off in the midst of that
last burst, we should have started triumphantly : but to lie here, two hours and
more in the damp fog, neither staying at home nor going abroad, is letting one
gradually down into the very depths of dulness and low spirits. A speck in the
mist, at last ! That's something. It is the boat we wait for ! That's more to the
purpose. The captain appears on the paddle-box with his speaking trumpet ; the
officers take their stations ; all hands are on the alert ; the flagging hopes of the
passengers revive ; the cooks pause in their savoury work, and look out with faces
full of interest. The boat comes alongside ; the bags are dragged in anyhow, and
flung down for the moment anywhere. Three cheers more : and as the first one
rings upon our ears, the vessel throbs like a strong giant that has just received the
breath of life ; the two great wheels turn fiercely round for the first time ; and
the noble ship, with wind and tide astem, breaks proudly through the lashed
and foaming water.

TiTlTW Mfc— ifcfc

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American Notes.

CHAPTER II.

THE PASSAGE OUT.

We all dined together that day ; and a rather formidable party we were : no fewer
than eighty-six strong. The vessel being pretty deep in the water, with all her
coals on board and so many passengers, and the weather being calm and quiet,
there was but little motion ; so that before the dinner was half over, even tliose
passengers who were most distrustful of themselves plucked up amazingly ; and
those who in the morning had returned to the universal question, *• Are you a
good sailor .?" a very decided negative, now either pamed the inquiry with the
evasive reply, ** Oh ! I suppose I'm no worse than anybody else ;" or, reckless of
all moral obligations, answered boldly ** Yes :" and with some irritation too, as
though they would add, "I should like to know what you see in me, sir, parti-
cularly, to justify suspicion !"

Notwithstanding this high tone of courage and confidence, I could not but
observe that very few remained long over their wine ; and that everybody had an
unusual love of the open air ; and that 'he favourite and most coveted seats were
invariably those nearest to the door. The tea-table, too, was by no means as well
attended as the dinner-table; and there was less whist-pbying than might have
been expected. Still, with the exception of one lady, who had retired with some
precipitation at dinner-time, immediately after being assisted to the finest cut of a
very yellow boiled leg of mutton with very green capers, there were no invalids as
yet ; and walking, and smoking, and drinking of brandy-and-water (but always
in the open air), went on with unabated spirit, until eleven o'clock or there-
abouts, when '* turning in" — no sailor of seven hours' experience talks of going to
bed — became the order of the night. The perpetual tramp of boot-heels on the
decks gave place to a heavy silence, and the whole human freight was stowed away
below, excepting a very few stragglers, like myself, who were probably, like me,
afraid to go there.

To one unaccustomed to such scenes, this is a very striking time on shipboard.
Afterwards, and when its novelty had long M-orn off, it never ceased to have a
peculiar interest and charm for me. The gloom through which the great black
mass holds its direct and certain course ; the rushing water, plainly heard, but
dimly seen ; the broad, white, glistening track, that .♦"ollows in the vessel's wake ;
the men on the look-out forward, who would be scarcely visible against the dark
sky, but for their blotting out some score of glistening stars ; the helmsman at the
wheel, with the illuminated card before him, shining, a speck of light amidst the
darkness, like something sentient and of Divine intelligence ; the melancholy
sighing of the wind through block, and rope, and chain ; the gleaming forth of
light from every crevice, nook, and tiny piece of glass about the decks, as though
ihe ship were filled with fire in hiding, ready to burst through any outlet, wild
with its resistless power of death and iiiin. At first, too, and even when the hour,
and all the objects it exalts, have come to be familiar, it is difhcult, alone and
thoughtful, to hold them to their proper shapes and forms. They change with
the Avandering fancy ; assume the semblance of things left far away ; put on the
well-remembered aspect of favourite places dearly loved ; and even people them
with shadows. Streets, houses, rooms ; figures so like their u^nal occupants, that
they have sta'tled me by their reality, which far exceedec'', as it sjcmed to me, all

A heavy sea and a head-wind.

e were : no fewer
ater, with all her
: calm and quiet,
over, even those
amazingly; and
on, "Are you a
inquiry with the
;" or, reckless of
irritation too, as
n me, sir, parti-

I could not but
■erybody had an
iveted seats were
no means as well
than might have
elired with some
he finest cut of a
^re no invalids as
ater (but always
j'clock or there-
talks of going to
oot-heels on the
vas stowed away
obably, like me,

le on shipboard.
?ased to have a
the great black
linly heard, but
2 vessel's wake ;
igainst the dark
lelmsinan at the
light amidst the
the melancholy
naming forth of
ecks, as though
iny outlet, wild
when the hour,
:ult, alone and
y change with
y, put on the
n people them
3ccupants, that
med to me, aH

.:%

A

power of mine to conjure up the absent ; have, many and many a time, at ^kc\i an
hour, grown suddenly out of objects with whose real look, and use, and purpose, I
was as well acquainted as with my own two hands.

My own two hands, and feet likewise, being very cold, however, on this parti-
cular occasion, I crept below at midnight. It was not exactly comfortable below.
It was decidedly close ; and it was impossible to be unconscious of the presence of
that extraordinary compound of strange smells, which is to be found nownere but on
board ship, and which is such a subtle perfume that it seems to enter at every pore
of the skin, and whisper of the hold. Two passengers' wives (one of them my
own) lay already in silent agonies on the sofa ; and one lady's maid [my lady's) was
a mere bundle on the lloor, execrating her destiny, and pounding her curl-papers
among the stray boxes. Everything sloped the wrong way : which in itself was an
aggravation scarcely to be borne. I had left the door open, a moment before, in
the bosom of a gentle declivity, and, when I turned to shut it, it was on the summit
of a lofty eminence. Now every plank and timber creaked, as if the ship were
made of wicker-work; and now crackled, like an enormous fire of the driest
possible twigs. There ^vas nothing for it but bed ; so I went to bed.

It was pretty much the same for the next two days, with a tolerably fair wind
and dry weather. I read in bed (but to this hour I don't know what) a good deal ;
and reeled on deck a little ; diank cold brandy-and-water with an unspeakable
disgust, and ate hard biscuit pcrseveringly : not ill, but going to be.

It is the third morning. I am awakened out of my sleep by a dismal shriek
from my wife, who demands to know whether there's any danger. I rouse myself,
and look out of bed. The water-jug is plunging and leaping like a lively dolphin ;
all the smaller articles are afloat, except my :-hoes, which are stranded on a carpet-
bag, high and dry, like a couple of coal-barges. Suddenly I see them spring into
the air, and behold the looking-glass, which is nailed to the wall, sticking fast
upon the ceiling. At the same time the door entirely disappears, and a new one
is opened in the floor. Then I begin to comprehend that the state-room is stand-

ing on its head.

Before it is possible to make any arrangement at all compatible with this novel
state of things, the ship rights. Before one can say "Thank Heaven!" she
wrongs again. Before one can ciy she is wrong, she seems to have started for-
ward, and to be a creature actually running of its own accord, with broken knees
and failing legs, through every variety of hole and pitfall, and stumbling constantly.
Before one can so much as wonder, she takes a high leap into the air. Before she
has well done that, she takes a deep dive into the water. Before she has gained
the surface, she throws a summerset. The instant she is on her legs, she rushes
backward. And so she goes on staggering, heaving, wrestling, leaping, diving,
jumping, pitching, throbbing, rolling, and rocking : and going through all these
movements, sometimes by turns, and sometimes altogether ; until one feels dis-
posed to roar for mercy.

A steward passes. " Steward !" " Sir V *' What is the matter } what do you
call this .'"' *' Rather a heavy sea on, sir, and a head-wind."

A head-wind ! Imagine a human face upon the vessel's prow, with fifteen thou-
sand Samsons in one bent upon driving her back, and hitting her exactly between
the eyes whenever she attempts to advance an inch. Imagine the ship herself,
with every pulse and artery of her huge body swollen and bursting under this mal-
treatment, sworn to go on or die. Imagine the wind howling, the sea roaring,
the rain beating : all in furious array a'gainst her. Picture the sky both dark and
wild, and the clouds, in fearful sympathy with the waves, making another ocean in
the air. Add to all this, the clattering on deck and down below ; the tread of
hurried feet ; the loud hoarse shouts of seamen ; the gurgling in and out of water

A

''■' /

il

*!l-

8

American Notes,

through the scuppers ; with, every now and then, the striking of a heavy sea upon
the planks above, with the deep, dead, heavy sound of thunder heard withm a
vault ; — and there is the head-wind of that January morning.

I say nothing of what may be called the domestic noises of the ship : such as
the breaking of glass and crockery, the tumbling down of stewards, the gambols,
overhead, of loose casks and truant dozens of bottled porter, and the very remark-
able and far from exhilarating sounds raised in their various state-rooms by the
seventy passengers who were too ill to get up to breakfast. I say nothing of
them : for although I lay listening to this concert for three or four days, I don't
think I heard it for more than a quarter of a minute, at the expiration of which
term, I lay down again, excessively sea-sick.

Not sea-sick, be it understood, in the ordinary acceptation of the term : I wish
I had beeft : but in a form which I have never seen or heard described, though
I have no doubt it is very common. I lay there, all the day long, quite coolly
and contentedly ; with no sense of weariness, with no desire to get up, or get
better, or take the air ; with no curiosity, or care, or regret, of any sort or degree,
saving that I think I can remember, in this universal indifference, having a kind
of lazy joy — of fiendish delight, if anything so lethargic can be dignified with the
title — in the fact of my wife being too ill to talli to me. If I may be allowed to
illustrate my state of mind by such an example, I should say that I was exactly
in the condition of the elder Mr. Willet, after the incursion oi the rioters into his
bar at Chigwell. Nothing would have surprised me. If, in the momentary
illumination of any ray of intelligence that may have come upon me in the way
of thoughts of Home, a goblin postman, with a scarlet coat and bell, had come
into that little kennel before me, broad awake in broad day, and, apologising for
being damp through walking in the sea, had handed me a letter directed to myself,
in familiar characters, I am certain I should not have felt one atom of astonish-
ment : I should have been perfectly satisfied. If Neptune himself had walked
in, with a toasted shark on his trident, I should have looked upon the event as one
of the very commonest eveiyday occurrences.

Once — once — I found myself on deck. I don't know how I got there, or what
possessed me to go there, but there I was ; and completely dressed too, with a
huge pea-coat on, and a pair of boots such as no weak man in his senses could
ever have got into. I found myself standing, when a gleam of consciousness
came upon me, holding on to something. I don't know what. I think it was the
boatswain : or it may have been the pump : or possibly the cow. I can't say how
long I had been there ; whether a day or a minute. I recollect trying to think
about something (about anything in the whole wide world, I was not particular)
without the smallest effect. I could not even make out which was the sea, and
which the sky, for the horizon seemed drunk, and was flying wildly about in all
directions. Even in that incapable state, however, I recognised the lazy gentle-
man standing before me : nautically clad in a suit of shaggy blue, with an oilskin
hat. But I was too imbecile, although I knew it to be he, to separate him from
his dress; and tried to call him, I remember, /'//t;/. After another interval of
total unconsciousness, I found he had gone, and recognised another figure in its
place. It seemed to wave and fluctuate before me as though I saw it reflected in
an unsteady looking-glass ; but I knew it for the captain ; and such was the cheer-
ful influence of his face, that I tried to smile : yes, even then I tried to smile. I
saw by his gestures that he addressed me ; but it was a long time before I could
make out that he remonstrated against my standing up to my knees in water — as
I was , of course I don't know why. I tried to thank him, but couldn't. I could
only point to my boots — or wherever I supposed my boots to be — and say in a
plaintive voice, " Cork soles :" at the same time endeavouring, I am told, to at

L&-

4.

Ship roiling r/Jtber.

down in the pool. Finding that I was quite insensible, and for the time a Aaniac,
he humanely conducted me below.

There I remained until I got better : suffering, whenever I was recommended to
eat anything, an amount of anguish only second to that which is said to be en-
dured by the apparently drowned, in the process of restoration to life. One gen-
tleman on board had a letter of introduction to me from a mutual friend in
London. He sent it below with his card, on the morning of the head-wind ; and
I was long troubled with the idea that he might be up, and well, and a hundred
times a day expecting me to call upon him in the saloon. I imagined him one of
those cast-iron images — I will not call them men — who ask, with red faces, and
lusty voices, what sea-sickness means, and whether it really is as bad as it is repre-
sented to be. This was very torturing indeed ; and I don 't think I ever felt such
perfect gratification and gratitude of heart, as I did When I heard from the ship's
doctor tliat he had been obliged to put a large mustard poultice on this very gen-
tleman's stomach. I date my recovery from the receipt of that intelligence.

It was materially assisted though, I have no doubt, by a hcavj' gale of wind,
which came slowly up at sunset, when we were about ten days out, and raged with
gradually increasing fury until morning, saving that it lulled for an hour a little
before midnight. There was something in the unnatural repose of that hour, and
in the after gathering of the storm, so inconceivably awful and tremendous, that
its bursting into full violence was almost a relief.

The labouring of the ship in the troubled sea on this night I shall never for-
get. ** Will it ever be worse than this .?" was a question I had often h'eard asked,
when everything was sliding and bumping about, and when it certainly did seem
difficult to comprehend the possibility of anything afloat being more disturbed,
without toppling over and going down. But what the agitation of a steam-
vessel is, on a bad winter's night in the wild Atlantic, it is impossible for the most
vivid imagination to conceive. To say that she is flung down on her side in the
waves, with her masts dipping into them, and that, springing up again, she rolls
over on the other side, until a heavy sea strikes her with the noise of a hundred
great guns, and hurls her back — that she stops, and staggers, and shivers, as though
stunned, and then, with a violent throbbing at her heart, darts onward like a monster
goaded into madness, to be beaten down, and battered, and crushed, and leaped on
by the angry sea — that thunder, lightning, hail, and rain, and wind, are all in fierce
contention for the mastery — that every plank has its gftJan, every nail its shriek,
and every drop of water in the great ocean its howling voice — is nothing. To
say that all is grand, and all appalling and honible in the last degree, is nothing.
Words cannot express it. Thoughts cannot convey it. Only a dream can call
it up again, in all its fury, rage, and passion.

And yet, in the very midst of these terrors, I was placed in a situation so ex-
quisitely ridiculous, that even then I had as strong a sense of its absurdity as I
have now, and could no more help laughing than I can at any other comical
incident, happening under circumstances the most favourable to its enjoyment.
About midnight we shipped a sea, which forced its way through the skylights,
burst open the doors above, and came raging and roaring down into the ladies*
cabin, to the unspeakable consternation of my wife and a little Scotch lady — who,
by the way, had previously sent a message to the captain by the stewardess, re-
questing him, with her compHments, to have a steel conductor immediately
attached to the top of every mast, and to the chimney, in order that the ship
might not be struck by hghtning. They and the handmaid before-mentioned,
being in such ecstasies of fear that I scarcely knew what to do with them, I natu-
rally bethought myself of some restorative or comfortable cordial ; and nothing
better occurring to me, at the moment, than hot brandy-and- water, I procured a

rtSSKJ«%fe.'iafc!J

Hf::

!i'

:U

10

American Notes.

tumblar full without delay. It being impossible to stand or sit without holding
on, they were all heaped together in one corner of a long sofa — a fixture extend-
ing entirely across the cabin — where they clung to each other in momentary ex-
pectation of being drowned. When I approached this place with my specific,
and was about to administer it with many consolatory expressions to the nearest
sufferer, what was my dismay to see them all roll slowly down to the other end !
And when I staggered to that end, and held out the glass once more, how im-
mensely baffled were my good intentions by the ship giving another lurch, and
their all rolling back again ! I suppose I dodged them up and down this ^ofa
for at least a quarter of an hour, without reaching them once ; and by the time I
did catch them, the brandy-and-water was diminished, by constant spilling, to a
teaspoonful. To complete the group, it is necessary to recognise in this discon-
certed dodger, an individual very pale from sea-siclcncss, who had shaved hU
beard and brushed his hair, last, at Liverpool : and whose only article of dress
(linen not included) were a pair of dreadnought trousers ; a blue jacket, formerly
admired upon the Thames at Richmond ; no stockings ; and one slipper.

Of the outrageous antics performed by that ship next morning ; which made
bed a practical joke, and getting up, by any process short of falling out, an im-
possibility ; I say nothing. But anythmg like the utter dreariness and desolation
tl\at met my eyes when I, literally •' tumbled up " on deck at noon, I never saw.
Ocean and sky were all of one dull, heavy, uniform, lead colour. There was no
extent of prospect even over the dreary waste that lay around us, for the sea ran
high, and the horizon encompassed us like a large black hoop. Viewed from the
air, or some tall bluff on shore, it would have been imposing and stupendous, no
doubt ; but seen from the wet and rolling decks, it only impressed one giddily and
painfully. In the gale of last night the life-boat had been crushed by one blow
of the sea like a walnut-shell ; and there it hung dangling in the air : a mere fag-
got o crazy boards. The planking of the paddle-boxes had been torn sheer away.
The wheels were exposed and bare ; and they whirled and dashed their spray
about the decks at random. Chimney, white with crusted salt ; topm.asts struck ;
stormsails set ; rigging all knotted, tangled, wet, and drooping : a gloomier pic-
ture it would be hard to look upon.

I was now comfortably established by courtesy in the ladies' cabin, where, be-
sides ourselves, there were only four other passengers. First, the little Scotch
lady before mentioned, on her way to join her husband at New York, who had
settled there three years before. Secondly and thirdly, an honest young York-
shireman, connected with some American house ; domiciled in that same city, and
carrying thither his beautiful young wife to whom he had been married but a
fortnight, and who was the fairest specimen of a comely English country girl I
have ever seen. Fourthly, fifthly, and lastly, another couple : newly married too,
if one might judge from the endearments they frequently interchanged : of whom
I know no more than that they were rather a mysterious, run-away kind of couple ;
that the lady had gi-eat personal attractions also ; and that the gentleman carried
more guns with him than Robinson Crusoe, wore a shooting-coat, and' had two
great dogs on board. On further consideration, I remember that he tried hot
roast pig and bottled ale as a cure for sea-sickness ; and that he took these reme-
dies (usually in bed) day after day, with astonishing perseverance. I may add,
for the information of the curious, that they decidedly failed.

The weather continuing obstinately and almost unprecedentedly bad, we usually
straggled into this cabin, more or less faint and miserable, about an hour before
noon, and lay down on the sofas^o recover; during which interval, the captain
would Idbk in to communicate the state of the wind, the moral certainty of its
changing to-morrow (the weather is always going to improve to-morrow, at sea),

^^'

Daily Life on Board.

II

thout holding
xture extend-
lomcntary ex-
h my specific,

0 the nearest
e otlicr end !
ore, how im-
ler huch, and
own this ^ofa
by the tiMie I

>^I>iliing, to a

1 this discon-
d shaved hi^
tide of dress
:kct, formerly
)l)er.

which made
: out, an im-
tid desolation

I never saw.
There was no
)r the sea ran
ved from the
iipendous, no
e giddily and
I by one blow

a mere fag-
1 sheer away,
i their spray
nasts struck ;
loomier pic-

1, where, be-
little Scotch
rk, who had
'oung York-
me city, and
larried but a
3untry girl I
married too,
1 : of whom
:! of couple;
nan carried
md'had two
e tried hot
these reme-
I may add,

, we usually
lour before
^he captain
ainty of its
3w, at sea),

the vessel's rate of sailing, ard so forth. Observations there were non'- to tell us
of, for there was no sun to take them by. But a description of one day will scr>e
for all the rest. Here it is.

The captain .being gone, we comjjose ourselves to read, if the place be light
enough ; and if not, we doze and talk alternately. At one, a bell rings, and the
stewardess comes down with a steaming dish of baked potatoes, and another of
roasted apples; and plates of pig's face, cold ham, salt beef; or perhaps a smok-
ing mess of rare hot collops. We fall to upon these dainties ; cat as much as we
can (we have great appetites now) ; and are as long as possible about it. If the
fire will burn (it will sometimes) we are pretty cheerful. If it won't, we all remark
to each other that it's very cold, rub our hands, cover ourselves with coats and
cloaks, and lie down again to doze, talk, and read (provided as aforesaid), until
dinner-time. At five, another bell rings, and the stewardess reappears with an-
other dish of potatoes — boiled this time — and store of hot meat of various kinds :
not forgetting the roast pig, to be * ken medicinally. \Vc sit down at table again
(rather more cheerfully than before; ; prolong the meal with a rather mouldy des-
sert of apples, grapes, and oranges ; and drink our wine and biandy-and-water.
The bottles and glasses are still upon the table, and the oranges and so forth arc
rolling about according to their fancy and the ship's way, when the doctor comes
down, by special nightly invitation, to join our evening rubber : immediately on
whose arrival we make a party at whist, and as it is a rough night and the cards
will not lie: on the cloth, we put the tricks in our pockets as we take them. At
whist we remain with exemplary gravity (deducting a short time for tea and toast)
until eleven o'clock, or thereabouts ; when the captain comes down again, in a
sou'-wester hat tied under his chin, and a pilot-coat : making the giound wet
where he stands. By this time the card-playing is over, and the bottles and
glasses are again upon the table ; and after an hour's pleasant conversation about
the ship, the passengers, and things in general, the captain (who never goes to
bed, and is never out of humour) turns up his coat collar for the deck again ;
shakes hands all round ; and goes laughing out into the weather as merrily as to
a birthday party.

As to daily news, there is no dearth of that commodity. This passenger is
reported to have lost fourteen pounds at Vingt-et-un in the saloon yesterday ; and
that passenger drinks his bottle of champagne every day, and how he does it
(being only a clerk), nobody knows. The head engineer has distinctly said that
there never was such times — meaning weather — and four good hands are ill, and
have given in, dead beat. Several berths are full of water, and all the cabins are
leaky. The ship's cook, secretly swigging damaged whiskey, has been found
drunk; and has been played upon by the fire-engine until quite sober. All the
stewards have fallen down-stairs at various dinner-times, and go about with plas-
ters in various places. The baker is ill, and so is the pastry-cook. A new man,
horribly indisposed, has been required to fill the place of the latter officer; and
has been propped and jammed up with empty casks in a little house upon deck,
and commanded to roll out pie-crust, which he protests (being highly bilious) it is
death to him to look at. News ! A dozen murders on shore would lack the
interest of these slight incidents at sea.

Divided between our rubber and such topics as these, M'e were running (as wc
thought) into Halifax Harbour, on the fifteenth night, with little wind and a bright
moon — indeed, we had made the Light at its outer entrance, and put the pilot iu-
charge — when suddenly the ship struck upon a bank of mud. An immediate
rush on deck took place of course ; the sides were crowded in an instant ; and
for a few minutes we were in as lively a state of confusion as the jzieatest lover of

disorder would desire to see. The passengers, and

guns,

and water-casks, and

J^gaff- -■„'!. a

I

12

J me ri can Notes.

other heavy matters, being all huddled together aft, however, to lighten her in
the head, she was soon got ofi"; and after some driving on towards an uncomfort-
able line of objects (whose vicinity had been announced very early in the disaster
by a loud cry of •• Breakers a-head! ") and much backing of paddles, and heaving
of the lead into a constantly decreasing depth of water, we ilropped anchor in a
strange outlandish-looking nook which nobody on board could recognise, although
there was land all about us, and so close that we could plainly see the waving
branches of the trees.

It was strange enough, in the silence of midnight, and the dead stillness that
seemed to be created by the sudden and unexpected stoppage of the engine which
had been clanking and blasting in our cars incessantly for so many days, to watch
the look of blank astonishment expressed in every face : begmning with the
officers, tracing it through all the passengers, and descending to the very stokers and
fumacemen, who emerged from below, one by one, and clustered together in a smoky
group about the hatchway of the engine-room, comparing notes in whispers. After
throwing up a few rockets and firing signal guns in the hope of being hailed from the
land, or at least of seeing a light — but without any other sight or sound presenting
itself — it was determined to send a boat on shore. It was amusing to observe how very
kind some of the passengers were, in volunteering to go ashore in this same boat : for
the general good, of course : not by any means because they thought the ship in
an unsafe position, or contemplated the possibility of her heeling over in case the
tide were running out. Nor was it less amusing to remark how desperately un-
popular the poor pilot became in one short minute. He had had his passage out
from Liverpool, and during the whole voyage had been quite a notorious cha-
racter, as a teller of anecdotes and cracker of jokes. Yet here were the very men
who had laughed the loudest at his jests, now flourishing their fists in his face,
loading him with imprecations, and clefying him to his teeth as a villain !

The boat soon shoved off, with a lantern and sundry blue lights on board; and
in less than an hour returned ; the officer in command bringing with him a toler-
ably tall young tree, which he had plucked up by the roots, to satisfy certain dis-
trustful passengers whose minds misgave them that they were to be imposed upon
and shipwrecked, and who would on no other tenns believe that he had been
ashore, or had done anything but fraudulently row a little way into the mist,
specially to deceive them and compass their deaths. Our captain had fore-
seen from the first that we must be in a place called the Eastern passage ;
and so we were. It was about the last place in the world in which we had any
business or reason to be, but a sudden fog, and some error on the pilot's part,
were the cause. We were surrounded by banks, and rocks, and shoals of all
kinds, but had happily drifted, it seemed, upon the only safe speck that was to
be found thereabouts. Eased by this report, and by the assurance that the tide
was past the ebb, we turned in at three o'clock in the morning.

I was dressing about half-past nine next day, when the noise above hurried me
on deck. When I had left it over-night, it was dark, foggy, and damp, and there
were bleak hills all round us. Now, we were gliding down a smooth, broad
stream, at the rate of eleven miles an hour : our colours flying gaily ; our crew
rigged out in their smartest clothes ; our officers in uniform again ; the sun shin-
ing as on a brilliant April day in England ; the land stretched out on either side,
streaked with light patches of snow ; white wooden houses ; people at their doors ;
telegraphs working ; flags hoisted ; wharfs appearing ; ships ; quays crowded with
people ; distant noises ; shouts ; men and boys running down steep places to-
wards the pier : all more bright and gay and fresh to our unused eyes than words
can paint them. We came to a wharf, paved with uplifted faces ; got alongside,
and were made fast, after some shouting and straining of cables ; ddrted, a score

i

of us :
it had
Isu
curios
of the
witho
ing th
It!
bly, i
sion
a sm:
telesc
callec
well,
with
the ii
said t
such
from
every
occa?
Th
a str(
pean
strec
marl<
weat
sleig
somt
on"
was

tOWT

A\

ing;
spiri
lyini
put
E
rolh
is tc
alor

J

C ailing at Halifax.

13

stillness that
engine which
ays, to watch
in^^ with the
■y stokers and
icr in a smoky

ispers. After
liled from the
id presenting
erve how very
imc boat : for
t the ship in
r in case the
sperately un-

passage out

torious cha-
:he very men

in his face,
lin !

I board; and
him a toler-
y certain dis-
nposed upon
^e had been
to the mist,
n had fore-
n passage ;
we had any
pilot's part,
iioals of all
that was to
hat the tide

hurried me
p, and there
Doth, broad

; our crew
le sun shin-
either side,
heir doors ;
3wded with

places to-
than words

alongside,
ed, a score

■ .

of us along the gangway, almost as soon as it was thniit out to meet us, and before
it had reached the ship— and leaped upon the firm glad earth again !

1 suppose this HaliUix would have appeared an Elysium, though it had been a
curiosity of ugly dulness. But I carried away with me a most pleasant impression
of the town and its inhabitants, and have preserved it to this hour. Nor was it
without regret that I came home, without having found an opportunity of return-
ing thither, and once more shaking hards with the friends I made that day.

It happened to be the opening of the Legislative Co mcil and General Assem-
bly, at which ceremonial tne forms observed on the commencement of a v\^ Ses-
sion of Parliament in England were so closely copied, and so gravely presented on
a small scale, that it was like looking at "Westminster through the wrong end of a
telescope. The governor, as her Majesty's representative, delivered what may be
called the Speech from the Throne. He said what he had to say manfully and
well. The'military band outside the building struck up •• God save the Queen"
with great vigour before his Excellency had quite finished ; the people shouted ;
the in's rubbed their hands ; the out's shook their heads ; the Government party
said there never was such a good speech ; the Opposition declared there never was
such a bad one ; the Speaker and members of the House of Assembly withdrew
from the bar to say a great deal among themselves and do a little : and, in short,
everything went on, and promised to go on, just as it does at home upon the like
occasions.

The town is built on the side of a hill, the highest point being commanded by
a strong fortress, not yet quite finished. .Several streets of good breadth and ap-
pearance extend from its summit to the water-side, and are intersected by cross
streets running parallel with the river. The houses are chiefly of wood. The
market is abundantly supplied ; and provisions are exceedingly cheap. The
weather being unusually mild at that time for the season of the year, there was no
sleighing : but there were plenty of those vehicles in yards and by-places, and
some of them, from the gorgeous quality of their decorations, might have "gone
on" without alteration as triumphal cars in a mclo-drama at Astley's. The day
was uncommonly fine ; the air bracing and healthful ; the whole aspect of the
town cheerful, thriving, and irdustrious.

We lay there seven hours, lO deliver and exchange the mails. At length, hav-
ing collected all our bags and all our passengers (including two or three choice
spirits, who, having indulged too freely in oysters and champagne, were found
lying insensible on their backs in unfrequented streets), the engines were again
put in motion, and we stood oflf for Boston.

Encountering squally weather again in the Bay of Fundy, M'C tumbled and
rolled about as usual all that night and all next day. On the next afternoon, that
is to say, on Saturday, the twenty-second of January, an American pilot-boat came
alongside, and soon afterwards the Britannia steam-packet, from Liverpool,
eighteen days out, was telegraphed at Boston.

The indescribable interest with which I strained my eyes, as the first patches
of American soil peeped like molehills from the green sea, and followed them, as
they swelled, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, into a continuous line of
coast, can hardly be exaggerated. A sharp keen wind blew dead against us ; a
hard frost prevailed on shore ; and the cold was most severe. Yet the air was so
intensely clear, and dry, and bright, that the temperature was not only endurable,
but delicious.

How I remained on deck, staring about me, until we came alongside the dock,
and how, though I had had as many eyes as Argus, I should have had them all
wide open, and all employed on new objects — are topics which I will not prolong
this chapter to discuss. Neither ^vill I more than hint at my foreigner-like mis-

I

.M^t

T'^;^*'*-W*.?' •'-■*- >

itW;wf?iiiiiV«ii-. ,- III * — ~>j~

>♦

«

f

'4

American Notes,

take, in stippo^inp that a party of most active poisons, who srramblcd on board nt
the poiil ol tluii livi-s as wo iippioaiijcd llir whail, were newsmen, iuisweriiij^ to
that in(lii>trioiis class at home ; whercaH, (lespii.c ihc leatluin wallets of news
shmj» ahoiit the nei ks of some, an. I the broad sheets in the hands ol all, they were
Kditois, who boaided ships in person (as one ^^enlleman in a worsti'd comforter
informed me), '* because ihey liked the excitement of it." Siifliee it ni this place
to say, that one of these invaders, with a reaily couitesy for which I thank him here
most j^atelullv, went on before to order rooms at the hotel ; and that when I (ol-
lowid^as I soon ilid, 1 (bimd myself rollinj^ through the lon^ passages with an
involuntary imitation of the ^'ait of Mr. T. 1'. Cooke, in a new nautical nielo-dramn.

•• Dinni r, if vou please," said I to the waiter.

•* When ?" sai«l the waiter.

" As (piick as possible," said I.

••Rif^'ht away ?" said the waiter.

After a moment's hesitation, I answered "No," at hazard.

•• Xot rij;ht away ?" cried the waiter, with an amount of surprise that made me
start.

I looked at him doubtfully, and rctumed, "No ; I would rather have it in this
private room. I like it very nnich."

At this, I really thouj^hl the waiter must have j^one out of his mind : as I be-
lieve he would have done, but for the interposition of another man, who whispered
in his ear, •' Directly."

•• Well ! and that's a fact ! " said the waiter, looking helplessly at me : " Right
aw.'iy."

I saw now that " Right away" and " Directly" were one and the same thing.
So I reversed my previous answer, and sat down to dinner in ten minutes after-
wards ; and a capital dinner it • as.

The hoicl (a very excellent one) is called the Trcmont House. It has more
galleries, colonnades, piazzas, and passages than 1 can remember, or the reader
would believe.

CHAPTER III.

BOSTON.

I.v all the public establishmcnic of America, the utmost courtesy prevails. Most
of our Departments arc susceptible of considerable improvement in this respect,
but the (^istom house above all others would do well to tnl<e example from the
United States and render itself somewhat less odious and oftensive to foreigners.
The servile rapacity of the French officials is suthciently contemptible ; but there
is a surly boorish incivility about our men, alike disgusting to all persons who fall
into their hand^, and discreditable to the nation that keeps such ill-conditioned
curs snarling about its gates.

When I landed in America, I could not help being strongly impressed with the
contrast their Custom-house presented, and the attention, pohteness and good
humour with which its othcers discharged their duty.

As we did not land at Boston, in consequence of some detention at the wharf,
until after dark, I received my tirst impressions of the city in walking down to the
Custom-house on the morning after our arrival, which was Sunday. I am afraid
to snv, by the way, how many offers d pv?ws and seats in church for that morning
were made to us, by foi-mal note of invitation, before we had half finished our first

1

'I

'if

A Bright VUc€.

»S

>lt'<l "n hoard ii(
". ;ms\vtrin^' to
\*illcts of news
'I .ill, they were
••■^tt'*! coinforti'i

II '" tllis |)|;icc

''"•iiilv him hero
''•'< ^vjun 1 (bl-
^^ii^'t's Willi an
Ml luclo-dramn. J

• tliat made me
Jiavc it in this

ic same thing,
minutes after-
It has more
or tlic reader

evails. Afost
this respect,
I pie from the
to foreigners,
'e; but there
?ons who fall
•conditioned

sed with the
>s and good

It the wharf,
down to the
I am afraid
flat morning
lied our first

dinner in America, l>ut if T may l)c allowed lo make a mo<lrratc giics^, ^-itliout
goinj; into nicer calcul.ilion, I should say that al least a!^ many sittings wcic prof,
fcred us, as would have ati'omnMxlatcd a score or two of grown-up (aniilies. The
nuniiier of creeds and foinis of irligion lo which the pleasure of our company was
rc'jiiesled, was in very lair proportion.

Nt)t beinj^ able, in the absiiue of any change of clothes, lo go lo church that
day, wc were compelKd to dcclitic these kindnesses, one and all ; and I was reluc-
tatrtly obli^^'ecj (o forego tin- delij^ht of lui'iing Dr. (hanning, who hapneiied lo
j)reaih that nioining lor the first lime in a viiy loni' interval. I mention llie nanu!
of this dislinj^Miished and accomj)lished man (wilii whom I soon alterwimls had
the pleasure of becoming personally aitpiainted), that I may have the gralificUion
of recording my humble frihule of adnuralion and tc"s|H(t for his hij^h abilities and
character; ami for the bold philanthropy with which he has ever ojjposed him-
self to that most hideous blot and foid disgrace- Slavery.

To return to Boston. When I got into the strec* upon this Sunday mornhig,
the air was so clear, the houses were so blight and gay; the sigrd)oards were
painted in such gaudy colours ; the gilded letters were so very goklen ; the
bricks wc*e so very red, the stone was so very white, the blinds and area railings
were so Very gjcen, the knobs and j)lales u|)on the street doors so marvellously
brij^hl and twinkling ; an<l all so slight and unsubstantial in appearance — that
every thoroughfare in the city looked exactly like a scene in a pantomime, v It
rarely happens in the busmess streets that a tradesman, if 1 may venture to call
anybody a tradesman, where everybody is a merchant, resides above his store ; so
that many occupations are often carried on in one house, and the whole front is
covered with boards and inscriptions. As I walked along, I kept glancing up at
these boards, confidently expe( ting to see a few of them change into something ;
and I never turned a coiner suildenly without looking out for the clown and pan-
taloon, who, I had no doubt, were hiding in a doorway or behind some pillar close
at hand. As to Ilarlecpiin and Colund)ine, I discovered immediately that they
lodged (they arc always looking after lodgings in a pantomime) at a very small
clockmakcr's one story high, near the hotel ; which, in addition to various symbols
and devices, almost covering the whole front, had a great dial hanging out — to be
jumped through, of course.

Tnc suburbs are, if possible, even more unsubstantial-looking than the city.
The white wooden houses (so white that it makes one wink to look at them), with
their green jalousie blhuls, arc so sprinkled and dropped about in all directions,
without seeming to have any root at all in the ground ; and the small chuB^es
and chapels are so prim, and bright, and highly varnished ; that I almost believed
the whole affair could be taken up piecemeal like a child's toy, and crammed into
a little box.

The city is a beautiful one, and cannot fail, I should imagine, to impress all
strangers very favourably. The private dwelling-houses are, for the most part,
large and elegant ; the shops extremely good ; and the public buildings handsome.
The State House is built upon the summit of a hill, which rises gradually at first,
and afterwards by a steep ascent, almost from the water's edge. In front is a
green enclosure, called the Common. The site is beautiful : and from the top there
IS a charming panoramic view of the whole town and neighbourhood. In addition
to a variety of commodious offices, it contain^ two handsome chambers ; in one
the House of Representatives of the State hold their meetings : in the other, the
Senate. Such proceedings as I saw here, were conducted with perfect gravity and
decorum ; and were certainly calculated to inspire attention and respect.

There is no doubt that much of the intellectual refinement and superiority of
Boston, is referable to the quiet influence of the University of Cambridge, which

■^'£

"I I

i6

American Notes.

is within three or four miles of the city. The resident professors at that univer-
sity are gentlemen of learning and varied attainments; and are, without one
exception that I can call to mind, men who would shed a grace upon, and do ho-
nour to, any society in the civilised world. Many of the resident gentry in Boston
and its neighbourhood, and I think I am not mistaken in adding, a large majority
of those who are attached to the liberal professions there, have been educated at
this same school. Whatever the defects of American universities may be,
they disseminate no prejudices ; rear no bigots ; dig up the buried ashes of no old
superstitions ; never interpose between the people and their improvement ; exclude
no marrbecause of his religious opinions ; above all, in their whole course of study
and instruction, recognise a world, and a broad one too, lying beyond the college
walls.

It was a source of inexpressible pleasure to me to observe the almost impercep-
tible, but not less certain effect, wrought by this institution among the smull
community of Boston ; and to note at every turn the humanising tastes and desires
it has engendered; the affectionate friendships to which it has given rise; the
amount of vanity and prejudice it has dispelled. The golden calf they worship at
Boston is a pigmy compared with the giant effigies set up in other pa^ of that
vast counting-house which lies beyond the Atlantic ; and the almighty ddlar sinks
into something comparatively insignificant, amidst a whole Pantheon of better ,
gods. ,6

Above all, I sincerely believe that the public institutions and, charities of this
capital of Massachusetts are as nearly perfect, as the most considerate wisdom,
benevolence, and humanity, can make them. I never in my life was more affected
by the contemplation of happiness, under circumstances of privation and bereave-
ment, than in my A-isits to these establishments.

It is a great and pleasant feature of all such institutions in America, that they
are either supported by the State or assisted by the State ; or (in the event of their
not needing its helping hand) that they act in concert with it, and are emphatically
the people's. I cannot but think, with a view to the principle and its tendency
to elevate or depress the character of the industrious classes, that a Public Charity
is immeasurably better than a Private Foundation, no matter how munificently the
latter may be endowed. In our own country, where it has not, until within these
later days, been a ver)'^ popular fashion with governments to display any extraor-
dinary regard for the great mass of the people or to recognise their existence as
improveable creatures, private charities, unexampled in the history of the earth,
ha'Nj^mrisen, to do an incalculable amount of good among the destitute and afflicted.
But the government of the countn', having neither act nor part in them, is not in
the receipt of any portion of the gratitude they inspire ; and, offering very little
shelter or relief beyond that which is to be found in the workhouse and the jail,
has come, not unnaturally, to be looked upon by the poor rather as a stem master,
quick to correct and punish, than a kind protector, merciful and vigilant in their
hour of need.

The maxim that out of evil cometh good, is strongly illustrated by these estab-
lishments at home ; as the records of the Prerogative Office in Doctors' Commons
can abundantly prove. Some immensely rich old gentleman or lady, surrounded
by needy relatives, makes, upon a low average, a will a-week. The old gentleman
or lady, never very remarkable in the best of times for good temper, is full of
aches and pains from head to foot ; full of fancies and caprices ; full of spleen,
distrust, suspicion, and dislike. To cancel old wills, and invent new ones, is at
last the sole business of such a testator's existence ; and relations and friends
(some of whcjJTi have been bred up distinctly to inherit a large share of the pro-,/
perty, and have been, from their cradles, specially disqualified from devoting

S ''■'^.

iv

Noble Public Imtitutions.

17

at that univer-
e, without one
3on, and do ho-
entry in Boston

large majority
;en educated at
sities may be,
ashes of no old
ment ; exclude
course of study
•nd the college

most impercep-
long the small
tes and desires
jiven rise; the
hey worship at
r parti of that
ity ddflar sinks
heon of better

harities of this

lerate wisdom,

more affected

1 and bereave-

jrica, that they

event of their

! emphatically

its tendency

•ublic Charity

mificently the

within these

any extraor-

existence as

of the earth,

and afflicted.

em, is not in

ng very little

and the jail,

:em master,

ilant in their

these estab-
' Commons
surrounded
1 gentleman
r, is full of
1 of spleen,
ones, is at
and friends
of the pro-
devoting

L-

)i

,.A.'

11

themselves to any useful pursuit, on that account) are so often and so unexpectedly
and summarily cut off, and re-instated, and cut off again, that the whole family, '
down to the remotest ousin, is kept in a perpetual fever. At length it becomes
plain that the old lady or gentleman has not long to live ; and the plainer this
becomes, the more clearly the old lady or gentleman perceives that everybody is in
a conspiracy against their poor old dying relative ; wherefore the old lady or
gentleman makes another last will -positively the last this time — conceah the
same in a china tea-pot, and expires next day. Then it turns out, that the whole
of the real and personal estate is divided between half-a-dozen charities ; and that
the dead and gone testator has in pure spite helped to do a great deal of good, at
the cost of an immense amount of evil passion and misery.

The Perkins Institution and Massachusetts Asylum for the Blind, at Boston, is
superintended by a body of trustees who make an annunl report to the corporation.
The indigent blind of that state are admitted gratuitously. Those from the ad-
joining state of Connecticut, or from the stater of Maine, Vermont, or New
Hampshire, are admitted by a warrant from the state to which they respectively
belong ; or, failing that, must find security among their friends, for the payment of
about iyn^niy pounds English for their first year's board and instruction, and ten
for the*^econd. "After the first year," say the trustees, "an account current
will be opened with each pupil ; he will be charged with the actual cost of his
board, which will not exceed two dollars per week ; " a trifle more than eight
shillings Er .ish ; " and he will be credited with the rmount paid for him by the
state, or by iiis friends ; also with his earnings over and above the cost of the stock
which he u^es ; so that all his earnings over one dollar per week will be his own.
By the third year it will be known whether his earnings will more than pay the
actual cost of his board ; if they should, he will have it at his option to remain
and receive his earnings, or not. Those who prove unable to earn their own live-
lihood will not be retained ; as it is not desirable to convert the establishment
into an almshouse, or to retain any but working bees in the hive. Those who by
physical or mental imbecility are disqualified from work, are thereby disqualified
from being members of an industrious community ; and they can be better pro-
vided for in establishments fitted for the infirm."

I went to see this place one very fine winter morning : an Italian sky above,
and the air so clear and bright on every side, that even my eyes, which are
none of the best, could follow the minute lines and scraps of tracery in distant
buildings. Like most other public institutions in America, of the same class, it
stands a mile or two without the town, in a cheerful healthy spot ; and is an airy,
spacious, handsome edifice. It is built upon a height, commanding the harbour.
AVhen I paused for a moment at the door, and marked how fresh and free the
whole scene was — ^what sparkling bubbles glanced upon the waves, and welled up
every moment to the surface, as though the world below, like that above, were
radiant with the bright day, and gushing over in its fulness of light : when I gazed
from sail to sail away upon a ship at sea, a tiny speck of shining white, the only
cloud upon the still, deep, distant blue — and, turning, saw a blind boy with his
sightless face addressed that way, as though he too had some sense within him of
the glorious distance : I felt a kind of sorrow that the place should be so very
light, and a strange wish that for his sake^t were darker. It was but momentary,
of course, and a mere fancy, but I felt it keenly for all that.

The children were at their daily tasks in different rooms, except a few who were
already dismissed, and were at play. Here, as in many institutions, no uniform is
worn"; and I was very glad of it, for two reasons. Firstly, because I am sure that
nothing but senseless custom and want of thought would reconcile us to th ;
liveries and badges we are so fond of at home. Secondly, because the absence of

c

Kf,

'n'i

m

i8

American Notes,

these things presents each child to the visitor in his or her own proper character,
with its individuahty unimpaired ; not lost in a dull, ugly, monotonous repetition
of the same unmeaning garb : which is really an important consideration. The
wisdom of encouraging a little harmless pride in personal appearance even among
the blind, or the whimsical absurditj' of considering charity and leather breeches
inseparable companions, as wc do, requires no comment.

Good order, cleanliness, and comfort, pervaded eveiy comer of the building.
The various classes, who were gathered round their teachers, answered the ques-
tions put to them with readiness and intelligence, and in a spirit of cheerful contest
for precedence which pleased me very much. Those who were at play, were
gleesome and noisy as other children. More spiritual and affectionate friendships
appeared to exist among them, than would be found among other young persons
suffering under no deprivation ; but this I expected and was prepared to find. It
is a part of the great scheme of Heaven's merciful consideration for the afflicted.

In a portion of the buikling, set apart for that purpose, are workshops for blind
persons whose education is finished, and who have acquired a trade, but who can-
not pursue it in an ordinary manufactory because of their deprivation. Several
people were at work here ; making brushes, mattresses, and so forth ; and the
cheerfulness, industry, and good order discernible in every other part of th*e build-
ing, extended to this department also.

On the ringing of a bell, the pupils all repaired, without any guide or leader, to
a spacious music-hall, where they took their seats in an orchestra erected for that
purpose, and listened with manifest delight to a voluntaiy on the organ, played by
one of themselves. At its conclusion, the perfonner, a boy of nineteen or twenty,
gave place to a girl ; and to her accompaniment they all sang a hymn, and after-
wards a sort of chorus. It M'as veiy sad to look upon and hear them, happy
though their condition unquestionably was ; and I saw that one blind girl, who
(being for the time deprived of the use of her limbs, by illness) sat close beside me
\nth her face towards them, wept silently the while she listened.

It is strange to watch the faces of tiie blind, and see how free they are from all
concealment of what is passing in their thoughts; obser\ing which, a man with
eyes may blush to contemplate the mask he wears. Allowing for one shade of
anxious expression which is never absent from their countenances, and the like of
which we may readily detect in our own faces if we tiy to feel our way in the dark,
eveiy idea, as it rises within them, is expressed with the lightning's speed and
nature's truth. If the company at a rout, or drawing-room at court, could only
for one time be as unconscious of the eyes upon them as blind men and women
are, what secrets would come out, and what a worker of h}'pocrisy this sight, the
loss of which we so much pity, would appear to be !

The thought occurred to me as I sat down in another room, before a girl, blind,
deaf, and dumb ; destitute of smell ; and nearly so of taste : before a fair young
creature with evt;iy human faculty, and hope, and power of goodness and affection,
inclosed within her delicate frame, and but one outward sense — the sense of touch.
There she was, before me ; built up, as it were, in a marble cell, impervious to
any ray of light, or particle of sound ; with her poor white hand peeping through
a chink in the wall, beckoning to some good man for help , that an Immortal soul
might be awakened.

Long before I looked upon her, the help had come. Her face was radiant with
intelligence and pleasure. Her hair, braided by her own hands, was bound about
a head, whose intellectual capacity and development were beautifully expressed in
its graceful outline, and its broad open brow ; her dress, arranged by herself, was
a pattern of neatness and simjilicity; the work she had knitted, lay beside her;
her .writing-book was on the desk she leaned upon. — From the mournful ruin of

'X \

-■>i ,.

The Blind:

19

such bereavement, there had .lowly risen up this gentle, tender, guileless, grateful-
hearted being.

Like other inmates of that house, she had a green ribbon bound round her eyelids,
A doll she had dressed lay near upon the ground. I took it up, and saw that she
had made a green fillet such as she wore herself, and fastened it about its mimic eyes.

She was seated in a little enclosure, made by school-desks and forms, writing
her daily journal. But soon finishing this pursuit, she engaged in an animated
communication with a teacher who sat beside her. This was a fayour"^ mistress
with the poor pupil. If she could see the face of her fair instructress, she would
not love her less, I am sure.

I have extracted a few disjointed fragments of her histor}-, from an account,
written by that one man who has made her what she is. It is a very beautiful and
touching narrative ; and I wish I could present it entire.

Her name is Laura Bridgman. "She was bom in Hanovc/, New Hampshire,
on the twenty-first of December, 1829. She is describe 1 as having been a veiy
sprightly and pretty infant, with bright blue eyes. She was, however, so puny
and feeble until she was a year and a half old, that her parents hardly hoped to
rear her. She was subject to severe fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost
beyond her poMcr of endurance : and life was held by the feeblest tenure : but
when a year and a half old, she seemed to rally ; the dangerous symptoms sub-
sided ; and at twenty months old, she was perfectly well.

" Then her mental powers, hitherto stinted in their gi-owth, rapidly developed
themselves ; and during the four months of health which she enjoyed, she appears
(making due allowance for a fond mother's account) to have displayed a consider-
able degree of intelligence.

*' But suddenly she sickened again ; her disease raged with great violence during
five weeks, when her eyes and ears were inilamed, suppurated, and their contents
were discharged. But though sight and hearing were gone for ever, the poor
child's sufferings were not ended. The fever raged during seven weeks ; for five
months she vas kept in bed in a darkened room ; it was a year before she could
walk unsup} orted, and two years before she could sit up all day. It was now
observed thai her sense of smell was almost entirely destroyed ; and, consequently,
that her taste was much blunted.

" It was not until four years of age that the poor child's bodily health se<^iied
restored, and sh? was able to enter upon her apprenticeship of life and the world.

"But what a situation was hers! The darkness and the silence of the tomb
were around her : no mother's smile called forth her answering smile, no father's
voice taught her to imitate his sounds : — tliey, brothers and sisters, were but forms
of matter which resisted her touch, but which differed not from the furniture of the
house, save in warmth, and in ihe power of locomotion ; and not even in these
respects from the dog and the cat.

" But the immortal spirit which had been implanted within her could not die,
nor be maimed nor mutilated ; and though most of its avenues of communication
with the world were cut off, it began to manifest itself through the others. As
soon as she could walk, she began to explore the room, and then the house ; she
became familiar with the form, density, weight, and heat, of eveiy article she
could lay her hands upon. She followed her mother, and felt her hands and amis,
as she was occupied about the house ; and her disposition to imitate, led her to
repeat everything herself. She even learned to sew a little, and to knit."

The reader will scarcely need to be told, however, that the opportunities of com-
municating with her, were very, very limited ; and that the moral effects of her
wretched state soon began to appear. Those who cannot be enlightened by
reason, can only be controlled by force ; and this, coupled with her great priva-

■SE

■m.'i.

MMPMmS

111 >

;l

^'liil

20

American Notes,

tions, must soon have reduced her to a worse condition than that of the beasts
that perish, but for timely and unhoped-for aid.

** At this time, I was so fortunate as to hear of the child, and immediately
hastened to Hanover to see her. I found her with a well-formed figure ; a strongly-
marked, nei-vous-sanguine temperament ; a large and beautifully-shaped head ;
and the whole system in healthy action. The parents were easily induced to con-
sent to her coming to Boston, and on the 4th of October, 1837, they brought her
to the Institution.

" For a while, she was much bewildered ; and after waiting about two weeks,
until she became acquainted with her new locality, and somewhat familiar with
the inmates, the attempt was made to give her knowledge of arbitrary signs, by
which she could interchange thoughts with others.

"There was one of two ways to be adopted: either to go on to buik' up a
language of signs on the basis of the natural language which she had already com-
menced herself, or to teach her the purely arbitrary language in common use :
that is, to give her a sign for every individual thing, or to give her a knowledge
of letters by combination of which she might express her idea of the existence,
and the mode and condition of existence, of any thing. The former would have
been easy, but very ineffectual ; the latter seemed very difficult, but, if accomplished,
very effectual. I determined therefore to try the latter.

" The first experiments were made by takin"' articles in common use, such as
knives, forks, spoons, keys, &c., and pasting upon them labels with their names
printed in raised letters. These she felt very carefully, and soon, of course, dis-
tinguished tliPt the crooked lines spooji, differed as much from the crooked lines
key^ as the spoon differed from the key in form.

•'Then small detached labels, with the same words printed upon them, were
put into her hands ; and she soon observed that they were similar to the ones
pasted on the articles. She showed her perception of this similarity by laying the
label key \vpon the key, and the label spoon upon the spoon. She was encouraged
here by the natural sign of approbation, patting on the head.

" The same process was then repeated with all the articles which she could
handle ; and she very easily learned to place the proper labels upon them. It was
evident, however, that the only intellectual exercise was that of imitation and
memory. She recollected that the label bock was placed upon a book, and she
repeated the process first from imitation, next from memory, with only the motive
of love of approbation, but apparently without the intellectual perception of any
relation between the things.

"After a while, instead of labels, the individual letters were given to her on
detached bits of paper : they were arranged side by side so as to spell book, key.
Sec. ; then they were mixed up in a heap and a sign was made for her to arrange
them herself so as to express the words book, key, &c. ; and she did so.

** Hitherto, the process had been mechanical, and the success ah out as great as
teaching a very knowing dog a variety of tricks. The poor child had sat in mute
amazement, and patiently imitated everything her teacher did ; but now the truth
began to flash upon her : her intellect began to work : she perceived that here
was a way by which she could herself make up a sign of anything that was in her
own mind, and show it to another mind ; and at once her countenance lighted up
with a human expression : it was no longer a dog, or paiTot : it was an immortal
spirit, eagerly seizing upon a new link of union with other spirits ! I could almost
fix upon the moment when this tiuth dawned upon her mind, and spread its light
to her countenance ; I saw that the great obstacle was overcome ; and that hence-
forward nothing but patient and persevering, but plain and straightforward, efforts
were to be used.

k"x

m

.'-ill'

•"'■■.^

f the beasts

Laura Bridgtnan s Education.

21

** The result thus far, is quickly related, and easily conceived ; but not so was
the process ; for many weeks of apparently unprolitable labour were passed before
it was effected.

•'When it was said above, that a sign was made, it was intended to say, that
the action was performed by her teacher, she feeling his hands, and then imitating
the motion.

" The next step was to procure a set of metal types, with the different letters of
the alphabet cast upon their ends ; also a board, in which were square holes, into
which holes she could set the types ; so that the letters on their ends could alone
be felt above the surface.

'•Then, on any article being handed to her, for instance, a pencil, or a watch,
she would select the component letters, and arrange them on her board, and read
them with apparent pleasure.

•' She was exercised for several weeks in this way, until her vocabulary became
extensive ; and then the important step was taken of teaching her how to repre-
sent the different letters by the position of her fingers, instead of the cumbrous
apparatus of the board and types. She accomplished this speedily and easily, for
her intellect had begun to work in aid of her teacher, and her progress M'as rapid.

•' This was the period, about three months after she had commenced, that the
first report of her case was made, in which it was stated that • she has just learnt;.-'
the manual alphabet, as used by the deaf mutes, and it is a subject of delight a i
wonder to see how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly, she goes on with her labours.
Her teacher gives her a new object, for instance, a pencil, first lets her examine it,
and get an idea of its use, then teaches her how to spell it by making the signs for
the letters with her own fingers : the child grasps her hand, and feels her fingers,
as the different letters are formed ; she turns her head a little on one side like a
person listening closely ; her lips are apart ; she seems scarcely to breathe ; and
her countenance, at first anxious, gradually changes to a smile, as she compre-
hends the lesson. She then holtis up her tiny fingers, and spells the word in the
manual alphabet ; next, she takes her types and aiTanges her letters ; and last, to
make sure that she is right, she takes the whole of the types composing the word,
and places them upon or in contact with the pencil, or whatever the object
may be.'

••The whole of the succeeding year was passed in gratifying her eager inquiries
for the names of every object which she could possibly handle ; in exercising her
in the use of the manual alphabet ; in extending in every possible way her know-
ledge of the physical relations of things ; and in proper care of her health.

" At the end of the year a report of her case was made, from which the following
is an extract.

•' • It has been ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt, that she cannot see
a ray of light, cannot hear the least sound, and never exercises her sense of smell,
if she have any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and stillness, as profound as
that of a closed tomb at midnight. Of beautiful sights, and sweet sounds, and
pleasant odours, she has no conception ; nevertheless, she seems as h^pp^ and
playful as a bird or a lamb ; and the employment of her intellectual faculties, or
the acquirement of a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which is plainly marked
in her expressive features. She never seems to repine, but has all the buoyancy
and gaiety of childhood. She is fond of fun and frolic, and when playing with,
the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds loudest of the group.

*• • When left alone, she seems very happy if she have her knitting or sewing,
and will busy herself for hours ; if she have no occupation, she evidently amuses
herself by imaginary dialogues, or by recalling past impressions ; she counts with
her fingers, or spells out names of things which she has recently learned, in the

A

3BS

I I

' i ■ •

ri1

I.

22

American Notes.

manual alphabet of the deaf mutes. In this lonely self-communion she seems to
reason, reflect, and argue ; if she spell a word wrong Avith the fingers of her right
hand, she instantly strikes it witli her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disappro-
bation ; if right, then she pats herself upon the head, and looks pleased. She
sometimes purposely spells a word wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for
a moment and laughs, and then with tlie right hand strikes the left, as if to
corract it.

" * During the year she has attained great dexterity in the use of the manual
alphabet of the deaf mutes ; and she spells out the words and sentences which
she knows, so fast and so deftly, that only those accustomed fo this language can
follow with the eye the rajnd motions of her fingers.

*' * But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she writes her thoughts upon the
air, still more so is the ease and accuracy with which she reads the words thus
written by another ; grasping their hands in hers, and following eveiy movement
of their fingers, as letter after letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in
this way that she converses with her blind playmates, and nothing can more forcibly
show the power of mind in forcing matter to its purpose than a meeting between
them. For if great talent and skill are necessary for two pantomimes to paint
their thoughts and feelings by the movements of the body, and the expression of
the countenance, how much greater the difficulty when darkress shrouds them both,
and the one can hear no sound.

" ' When Laura is walking through a passage-way, with her hands spread before
her, she knows instantly eveiy one she meets, and passes them with a sign of re-
cognition :. but if it be a girl of her own age, and especially if it be one of her
favourites, there is instantly a bright smile of recognition, a twining of arms, a
grasping of hands, and a swift telegraphing upon the tiny fingers ; whose rapid
evolutions convey the thoughts and feelings from the outposts of one mind to those
of the other. There are questions and answers, exchanges of joy or sorrow, there
are kissings and partings, just as between little children with all their senses.'

** During this year, and six months after she had left home, her mother came to
visit her, and the scene of their meeting was an interesting one.

" The mother stood some time, gazing with overflowing eyes upon her unfortu-
nate child, who, all unconscious of her presence, was playing about the room.
Presently Laura ran against her, and at once began feeling her hands, examining
her dress, and trying to find out if she knew her ; but not succeeding in this, she
turned away as from a stranger, and the poor woman could not conceal the pang
she felt, at finding that her beloved child did not know her.

" She then gave Laura a string of beads M'hich she used to wear at home, which
were recognised by the child at once, who, with much joy, put them around her
neck, and sought me eagerly to say she understood the string was from her home.

*' The mother now sought to caress her, but poor Laura repelled her, preferring
to be with her acquaintances.

"Another article from home was now given her, and she began to look much
interested ; she examined the stranger much closer, and gave me to understand that
she knew she came from Hanover ; she even endured her caresses, but would leave
her with indifference at the slightest signal. The distress of the mother was now
painful to behold ; for, although she had feared that she should not be recognised,
the painful reality of being treated with cold indifference by a darling child, was
too much for woman's nature to bear.

"After a while, on the mother taking hold of her again, a vague idea seemed
to flit across Laura's mind, that this could not be a stranger ; she therefore felt
her hands very eagerly, while her countenance assumed an expression of intense
interest ; she became very pale ; and then suddenly red ; hope seemed struggling

Launi Bridgman s Character.

23

er came to

was now

with doubt and ans* ^ty, and never were contending* emotions more strongly painted
upon the human face : at this moment of painful uncertainty, the mother drew her
close to her side, and kissed her fondly, when at once the truth Hashed upon the
child, and all mistrust and anxiety disappeared from her face, as with an expression
of exceeding joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her parent, and yielded
herself to her loud embraces.

" After this, the beads were all unheeded ; the playthings which were offered to
her were utterly disregarded ; her playmates, for whom but a moment before she
gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove to pull her from her mother ; and though
she yielded her usual instantaneous obedience to my signal to follow me, it was
evidently with painful reluctance. She clung close to me, as if bewildered and
fearful ; and wlien, after a moment, I took her to her mother, she sprang to her
arms, and clung to her with eager joy.

«* The subsequent parting between them, showed alike the affection, the intelli-
gence, and the resolution of the child.

'• Laura accompanied her mother to the door, clinging close to her all the way,
until they arrived at the threshold, where she paused, and felt around, to ascertain
who was near her. Perceiving the matron, of whom she is very fond, she
grasped her with one hand, holding on convulsively to her mother with the other ;
and thus she stood for a moment : then she dropped her mother's hand ; put her
handkerchief to her eyes ; and turning round, clung sobbing to the matron ; while
her mother departed, with emotions as deep as those of her child.

4|f « « 4|» 4K « 4f

•' It has been remarked in former reports, that she can distinguish different de-
grees of intellect in others, and that she soon regarded, almost with contempt, a
newcomer, when, after a few days, she discovered her weakness of mind. This
unamiable part of her character has been more strongly developed during the past
year.

•' She chooses for her friends and companions, those children who are intelligent,
and can talk best with her ; and she evidently dislikes to be with those who are
deficient in intellect, unless, indeed, she can make them serve her purposes, which
she is evidently inclined to do. She takes advantage of then!, and makes them
wait upon her, in a manner that she knows she could not exact of others ; and in
various ways shows her Saxon blood.

•' She is fond of having other children noticed and caressed by the teachers, and
those whom she respects ; but this must not be canied too far, or she becomes
jealous. She wants to have her share, which, if not the lion's, is the gieater part ;
and if she does not get it, she says, * My -mother will love tue.^

" Her tendency to imitation is so strong, that it leads her to actions which must
b«, entirely incomprehensible to her, and which can give her no other pleasure than
the gratification of an internal faculty. She has been known to sit for half an hour,
holding a book before her sightless eyes, and moving her lips, as she has observed
seeing people do when reading.

" She one day pretended that her doll was sick; and went through all the
motions of tending it, and giving it medicine ; she then put it carefully to bed,
and placed a bottle of hot water to its feet, laughing all the time most heartily.
When I came home, she insisted upon my going to see it, and feel its pulse ; and
when I told her to put a blister on its back, she seemed to enjoy it amazingly, and
almost screamed with delight.

" Her social feelings, and her affections, are very strong ; and when she is sitting
at work, or at her studies, by the side of one of her httle friends, she will break
off from her task every few moments, to hug and kiss them with an earnestness
and warmth that is touching to behold.

^.

2 +

American Notes.

** When left alone, she occupies and apparently amuses herself, and seems quite
contented ; and so strong seems to be the natural tendency of thoujjht to put on the
garb of language, that she often soliloquizes in i\\c finger language, s) jv and tedious
as it is. But it is only when alone, that she is quiet : for if she becomes sensible
of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until she can sit close beside
them, hold their hanci, and converse with them by signs.

**In her intellectual character it is pleasing to observe an insatiable thirst for
knowledge, and a quick perception of the relations of things. In h^r moral
character, it is beautiful to behold her continual gladness, her keen enjoyment of
existence, her expansive love, her unhesitating confidence, her sympathy with
suffering, her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness."

Such are a few fragments from the simple but most interesting and instructive
history of Laura Bridgman. The name of her great benefactor and friend, who
writes it, is Doctor Howe. There are not many persons, I hoj)e and believe, who,
after reading these passages, can ever hear that name with indifference.

A further account has been published by Dr. Howe, since the report from which
I have just quoted. It describes her rapid mental growth and improvement during
twelve months more, and brings her little histoiy down to the end of last year. It
is very remarkable, that as we dream in words, and carry on imaginary conversa-
tions, in which we speak both for ourselves and for the shadows who appear to us
in those visions of the night, so she, having no words, uses her finger alphabet in
her sleep. And it has been ascertained that when her slumber is broken, and is
much disturbed by dreams, she expresses her thoughts in an inegular and confused
manner on her fingers : just as we should murmur and mutter them indistinctly,
in the lilce circumstances.

I turned over the leaves of her Diary, and found it written in a fair legible square
hand, and expressed in terms which were quite intelligible without any explanation.
On my saying that I should like to see her write again, the teacher who sat beside
her, bade her, in their language, sign her name upon a slip of paper, twice or thrice.
In doing so, I observed that she kept her left hand always touching, and following
up, her right, in which, of course, she held the pen. No line was indicated by
any contrivance, but she wrote straight and freely.

She had, until now, been quite unconscious of the presence of visitors ; but,
having her hand placed in that of the gentleman who accompanied me, she imme-
diately expressed his name upon her teacher's palm. Indeed her sense of touch
is now so exquisite, that having been acquainted with a person once, she can re-
cognise him or her after almost any interval. This gentleman had been in her
company, I believe, but very seldom, and certainly had not seen her for many
months. My hand she rejected at once, as she does that of any man who is a
stranger to her. But she retained my wife's with evident pleasure, kissed her, and
examined her dress with a girl's curiosity and interest.

She was merry and cheerful, and showed much innocent playfulness in her
intercourse vnih. her teacher. Her delight on recognising a favourite playfellow
ind companion — herself a blind girl — who silently, and with an equal enjoyment
of the coming surprise, took a seat beside her, was beautiful to witness. It elicited
from her at first, as other slight circumstances did twice or thrice during my
visit, an uncouth noise which was rather painful to hear. But on her teacher
touching her lips, she immediately desisted, and embraced her laughingly and
affectionately.

I had previously been into another chamber, where a number of blind boys
were swinging, and climbing, and engaged in various sports. They all clamoured,
as we entered, to the assistant-master, who accompanied us, ** Look at me, Mr.
Hart f Please, Mr. Hart, look at me ! " evmcing, I thought, even in this, an

Dr. H'jwes account of (mother ptitient.

25

anxiety peculiar to their condition, that their little feats of agility should be urn.
Among them was a small laughing fellow, who stood aloof, entertaining himself
with a gymnastic exercise for bringing the arms and chest into play ; which he
enjoyed mightily ; especially when, in thrusting out his right arm, he brought it
into contact with another boy. Like Laura Brid^man, this young child was deaf,
and dumb, and blind.

Dr. Howe's account of this pupil's first instruction is so very striking, and so
intimately connected with Laura herself, that I cannot refrain from a short extract.
I may premise that the poor boy's name is Oliver Caswell ; that he is thirteen
years of age ; and that he was in lull possession of all his faculties, until three years
and four months old. He was then attacked by scarlet icver ; in four weeks
became deaf; in a few weeks more, blind ; in six months, dumb. He showed his
anxious sense of this last deprivation, by often feeling the lips of other persons
when they were talking, and then putting his hand upon his own, as if to assure
himself that he had them in the nght position.

•' His thirst for knowledge," says Dr. Howe, ** proclaimed itself as soon as he
entered the house, by his eager examination of every thing he could feel or smell
in his new location. For instance, treading upon the register of a furnace, he
instantly stooped down, and began to feel it, and soon discovered the way in
which the upper plate moved upon the lower one ; but this was not enough for
him, so lying down upon his face, he applied his tongue first to one, then to the
other, and seemed to discover that they were of different kinds of metal.

"His signs were expressive : and the strictly natural language, laughing, crying,
sighing, kissing, embracing, &c., was perfect.

" Some of the analogical signs which (guided by his faculty of imitation) he had
contrived, were comprehensible ; such as the waving motion of his hand for the
motion of a boat, the circular one for a wheel, &c.

" The first object was to break up the use of these signs and to substitute for
them the use of purely arbitrar)' ones.

'• Profiting by the experience I had gained in the other cases, I omitted several
steps of the process before employed, and commenced at once with the finger
language. Taking therefore, several articles having short names, such as key,
cup, mug, &c., and with Laura for an auxiliary, I sat down, and taking his hand,
placed it upon one of them, and then with my own, made the letters k e y. He
felt my hands eagerly with both of his, and on my repeating the process, he
evidently tried to imitate the motions of my fingers. In a few minutes he contrived
to feel the motions of my fingers with one hand, and holding out the other he tried
to imitate them, laughing most heartily when he succeeded. Laura was by,
interested even to agitation ; and the two presented a singular sight : her face was
flushed and anxious, and her fingers twining in among ours so closely as to follow
every motion, but so lightly as not to embarrass them ; while Oliver stood atten-
tive, his heac^ a little aside, his face turned up, his left hand grasping mine, and
his right held out : at every motion of my fingers his countenance betokened keen
attention ; there was an expression of anxiety as he tried to imitate the motions ;
then a smile came stealing out as he thought he could do so, and spread into a
joyous laugh the moment he succeeded, and felt me pat his head, and Laura clap
him heartily upon the back, and jump up and down in her joy.

*|He learned more than a half-dozen letters in half an hour, and seemed
delighted with his success, at least in gaining approbation. His attention then
began to flag, and I commenced playing with him. It was evident that in all this
he had merely been imitating the motions of my fingers, and placing his hand upon
the key, cup, &c., as part of the process, without any perception of the relation
between the sign and the object.

n

i.! .; 1 j.Jji.um

m^mm

h !

i

26

jimericcn Notes,

** When he was tifi(f''*irith play I took him hack to the table, and he was quite
ready to begin again his process of imitation. He soon learned 'o make the letters
for keVy p^n, pin ; and by having the object repeatedly placed in his hand, he at last
perceived tlic relation 1 wished to establish between them. This was evident,
because, when I made the letters////, yc p e n^ or ciipy he would select the
article.

*• The perception of this relation was not accompanied by that radiant flash of
intelligence, and that glow of joy, which marked the delightful moment when
Laura first perceived it. I then jjlaccd all the articles on the table, and going
away a little distance with the children, placed Oliver's nngers in the positions to
spell key, on which Laura went and brought the article : the little fellow seemed
much amused by this, and looked very attentive and smiling, I then caused him
to make the letters i* /-6'rtr</, and in an instant Laura went and brought him a
piece : he smelled at it ; put it to his lips ; cocked up his head with a most know-
ing look ; seemed to reflect a moment ; and then laughed outright, as much as to"
say, 'Aha ! I understand now how something may be made out of this.'

" It was now clear that he had the capacity and inclination to learn, that he
was a proper subject for instruciion, and needed only persevering attention. 1 there-
fore put him in the hands of an intelligent teacher, nothing doubting of his rapid
progress."

Well may this gentleman call that a delightful moment, in which some distant
promise of her present state first gleamed upon the darkened mind of Laura Bridg-
man. Throughout his life, the recollection of that moment will be to him a source
of pure, unfading happiness ; nor will it shine less brightly on the evening of his
days of Noble Usefulness.

The affection which exists between these two — the master and the pupil — is as
far removed from all ordinary care and regard, as the circumstances in which it
has had its growth, are apart from the common occurrences of life. He is occupied
now, in devising me" s of imparting to her, higher knowledge ; and of conveying
to her some adc(iuate idea of the Great Creator of that universe in which, dark
and silent and scentless though it be to her, she has such deep delight and glad
enjoyment.

Ye who have eyes and see not, and have ears and hear not ; ye who are as
the hypocrites of sad countenances, and disfigure your faces that ye may seem unto
men to fast ; learn healthy cheerfulness, and mild contentment, from the deaf,
and dumb, and blind ! Self-elected saints with gloomy brows, this sightless, ear-
less, voiceless child may teach you lessons you will do well to follow. Let that
poor hand of hers lie gentl} on your hearts ; for there may be something in its
healing touch akin to that of the' Great Master whose precepts you misconstrue,
whose lessons you pervert, of whose charity and sympathy with all the world, not
one among you in his daily practice knows as much as many of the worst among
those fallen sinners, to whom you are liberal in nothing but the preachment of
perdition !

As I rose to quit the room, a pretty little child of one of the attendants came
running in to greet its fathr c. For the moment, a child with eyes, among the
sightless crowd, impressed me almost as painfully as the blind boy in the porch
had done, two hours ago. Ah ! how much brighter and more deeply blue, glow-
ing and rich though it had been before, was the scene without, contrasting with
the darkness of so many youthful lives withm !

At South Boston, as it is called, in a situation excellently adapted for the
purpose, several charitable institutions are clustered together. One of these, is the
State Hospital for the insane ; admirably conducted on those enlightened prin-

The Lady of the House.

?7

learn, that lie

ciples of conciliation and kindness, which twenty years ago would have been worse
than heretical, and which have heen acted upon with so much success in our own
pauper Asylum at Jlanwell. "Evince a desire to show some confidence, and
repose some trust, even in mad j)e()j)le," said the resident physician, as we walked
along the palleries, his patients flocking round us unrestrained, ()r those who
deny or doubt the wisdom of this maxim after witnessing its effects, il there be such
people still alive, I can only say that I hope I may never be summoned as a Jurv-
man on a Commission of Lunacy whereof they are the subjects ; for I should
certainly find them out of their senses, on such evidence alone.

Each ward in this institution is shaped like a long gallery or hall, with the
dormitories of tiie patients opening from it on either haiul. Here they work, read,
l)lay at skittles, and other games; and when the weather docs not admit of their
taking exercise out of doors, pass the day together. In one of these rooms, seated,
calmly, and (juite as a matter of course, among a throng of mad-women, black and
white, were the physician's wife and another lady, with a couple of children.
These ladies were graceful and handsome ; and it was not difficult to perceive at
a glance that even their presence there, had a highly beneficial influence on the
patients who were grouped about them.

Leaning her head against the chimney-piece, with a great assumption of dignity
and refinement of manner, sat an elderly female, in as many scraps of finery as
!Madge Wildfire herself. Her head in particular was so strcAvn with scraps of
gauze and cotton and bits of paper, and had so many queer odds and ends stuck all
about it, that it looked like a biid's-nest. She was radiant with imaginary jewels ;
wore a rich pair of undoubted gold spectacles ; and gracefully dropped upon her
lap, as we approached, a very old greasy newspaper, in which I dare say she had
\ been reading an account of her own presentation at some Foreign Court.

I have been thus particular in describing her, because she will serve to
exemplify the j)hysician's manner of acquiring and retaining the confidence of his
l)atients.

"This," he said aloud, taking me by the hand, and advancing to the fantastic
figure with great politeness — not raising her suspicions by the slightest look or
whisper, or any kind of aside, to me : " This lady is the hostess of this mansion,
sir. It belongs to her. Nobody else has anything whatever to do with it. It is
a large establishment, as you see, and requires a great number of attendants. She
lives, you observe, in the very first»stylc. She is kind enough to receive my visits,
and to permit my wife and family to reside here ; for which it is hardly necessary
to say, we are much indebted to her. She is exceedingly courteous, you perceive,'^
on this hint she bowed condescendingly, "and will permit me to have the
pleasure of introducing you : a gentleman from England, Ma'am; newly arrived
from England, after a very tempestuous passage : Mr. Dickens, — the lady of the
house !"

We exchanged the most dignified salutations with profound gravity and respect,
and so went on. The rest of the madwomen seemed to understand the joke per-
fectly (not only in this case, but in all the others, except their own), and be highly
amused by it. The nature of their several kinds of insanity was made known to me in
the same way, and we left each of them in high good humour. Not only is a thorough
confidence established, by those means, between the physician and patient, in
respect of the nature and extent of their hallucinations, but it is easy to understand
that opportunities are afforded for seizing any moment of reason, to startle them
by placing tneir own delusion before them in its most incongruous and ridiculous
light.

Every patient in this asylum sits down to dinner every day \vith a knife and
fork ; and in the midst of them sits the gentleman, whose manner of dealing with

•^»m

\\ Ji

WA

i

28

Americiin Notes.

his charjjcs, 1 have just dcsci ibcil. At every meal, moral inlluence alone restraiiu
the more violent amoiij» them from eutliii}^' the throats ol' the lesl; but the clliii
of that iiilli.eiiee is reduceil to an absuliiie certainty, and i-> Countl, even as a mean-,
of restraint, to say nothin;^ ot it as a means o( cute, a luuulied times more ellii.i-
clous than all the strait- waistcoats, fetters, and hand-culVs, that ij,'norance, prtju.
dice, and cruelty have manufactured since the creation of the world.

In the labour tlejjartment, every patient is as freely trusted with the tools of lii,
traile as if he were a sane man. In the j^anlen, and on the farm, they work wiih
spades, rakes, and hoes. For amusement, they walk, run, lish, paint, read, ainl
viile out to take the air in carriages |)rovided for the purpose. They have amoii^
themselves a sewin}» si)ciely to make clothes for the poor, which holfls meelin;^^,
i)asscs resolutions, never comes to li.^ty-culls or bowie-knives as sane assemblies ha\ l
ncen known to do clsewliere; and comlucls all its proceeilinj^'S with the ^reate>t
decorum. The irritability, which would otherwise be expendeil on their own
llesh, clothes, and furniture, is dissipated in these pursuits. They arc cheerful,
trancjuil, and healthy.

Once a week they have a ball, in which the Doctor and his family, with all tlio
nurses and attemlants, take an active part. Dances and marches are performcil
alternately, to the enlivenin}^ strains of a piano ; and now and then some gentleman
or lady (whose proficiency has been i)reviously ascertained) obliges the company
with a song: nor does it ever degenerate, at a tender crisis, into a screech oi
howl ; wherein, I must confess, 1 should have thought the danger lay. At an
early hour they all meet together for these festive purposes ; at eignt o'clock
refreshments arc served ; and at nine they separate.

Immense politeness and good breeding are observed throughout. They all take
their tone from the Doctor ; and he moves a very Chesterfield among the compau) .
Like other assemblies, these entertainments afford a fruitful toi)ic of conversation
among the ladies for some days ; and the gentlemen are so anxious to shine on
these occasions, that they have been sometimes found " practising their steps" in
private, to cut a more distinguished figure in the dance.

It is obvious that one great feature of this system, is the inculcation and encour-
agement, even among such unhappy persons, of a decent self-respect. Something
of the same spirit pervades all the Institutions at South ^^ston.

There is the House of Industry. In that branch of it, which is devoted to the
reception of old or otherwise helpless paupers, these words are painted on the
walls : AVoRTHY of Notice. Self-Government, Quietude, and Peace,
ARE Blessings." It is not assumed and taken for granted that being there they
must be evil-disposed and wicked people, before whose vicious eyes it is necessary
to flourish threats and harsh restraints. They are met at the very threshold with
this mild appeal. All within-doors is very plain and simple, as it ought to be, but
arranged with a view to peace and comfort. It costs no more than any other plan
of arrangement, but it speaks an amount of consideration for those who are reduced
to seek a shelter there, which puts them at once upon their gratitude and good
behaviour. Instead of being parcelled out in great, long, rambling wards, wnere
a certain amount of weazen life may mope, and pine, and shiver, all day long, the
building is divided into separate rooms, each with its share of light and air. In
these, the better kind of paupers live. They have a motive for exertion and
becoming pride, in the desire to make these little chambers comfortable and decent.

I do not remember one but it was clean and neat, and had its plant or two upon
the window-sill, or row of crockery upon the shelf, or small display of coloured
prints upon the whitewashed wall, or, perhaps, its wooden clock behind the
door.

The orphans and young children are in an adjoining building ; separate from

"^^

Excellent House of Industry,

29

separate from

Itliis, but a pari of ihc same Institution. Some arc such liUlc creatures, that the

Utairs arc of Lilliputian measurement, lilted to their tiny strides. The game con-

Isiilctation for Iheir ye.irs and weakness is expressed in their vcr)* scats, which arc

jptrfect curiosities, and look like articles of furniture for a t)aupcr doirs-Kousc. I

tan inuijjinc the ;,'lee of our Poor Law Commissioners at tnc notion of these scats

having,' arms and hacks; but small spines beinj^ o4" older date than their occupa-

Ition ol the Hoard-room at Somerset House, 1 thoujjht even this provision very

merciful and kind.

Here a^ain, I was greatly pleased with the inscriptions on the wall, which were
scra|)s of plain morality, easily remend)ered and understood : such as *' Love one
another " — '.' (rod remembers the smallest creature in his creation :" and straight-
forward advice of that nature. The books and tasks of these sm.allcst of scholars,
were adapted, in the same judicious manner, to their childish powers. When wc
had examined these lessons, four morsels of j^'irls (of whom one was blind) san^j
a little son},', about the merry month of May, which I thought (beinj^ extremely
dismal) would have suited an Kn^jlish Novembei better. That done, wc went to
see their sleepin},'-rooms on the floor above, in which the arrangements were no
less excellent ancl ^'cntle than those we had seen below. And after observing that
the teachers were of a class ami character well suited to the spirit of the place, I
took leave of the infants with a lighter heart than ever I have taken leave of pau-
])er infants yet.

C'oimected with the House of Industry, there is also an Hospital, which was in
tlie best order, and had, I am glad to say, many beds unoccupied. It had one
fault, however, which is common to all American interiors : the presence of the
eternal, accursed, suflocating, red-hot demon ci' a stove, whose breath would
blif^ht the jnircst air umler lieaven.

There arc two establishments for boys in this same neighbourhood. One is
called the Boylston school, and is an asylum for neglected and indigent boys who
have committed no crime, but who in the ordinary course of thmgs would very
soon be purged of that distinction if they were not taken from the hungry streets
and sent here. The other is a House of Reformation for Juvenile Offenders.
1 hey arc both under the same roof, but the two classes of boys never come in
contact.

The Boylston boys, as may be readily supposed, have very much the advantage

of the others in point of personal appearance. They were in their school-room

iwhen I came upon them, and answered correctly, without book, such questions as

i where was England ; how far was it ; what was its population; its capital city;

iits form of government; and so forth. They sang a song too, about a farmer

sowing his seed : with corresponding action at such parts as '* 'tis thus he sows,'*

" he turns him round," " he claps his hands ;" which gave it greater interest for

I them, and accustomed them to act together, in an orderly manner. They appeared

j exceedingly well-taught, and not better taught than fed ; for a more chubby-look-

[ing full-waistcoated set of boys, I never saw.

The juvenile offenders had not such pleasant faces by a great deal, and in this

I establishmcrit there were many boys of colour. I saw them first at their work

(basket-making, and the manufacture of palm-leaf hats), afterwards in their school,

[where they sang a chorus in praise of Liberty : an odd, and, one would think,

i rather aggravating, theme for prisoners. These boys are divided into four classes,

reach denoted by a numeral, worn on a badge upon the arm. On the arrival of a

'newcomer, he is put into the fourth or lowest class, and left, by good behaviour,

to work his way up into the first. The design and object of this Institution is to

reclaini the youthful criminal by firm but kind and judicious treatment ; to make

his prison a place of purification and improvement, not of demoralisation and

f '■

wsm&mmmmm

30

American Notes.

I , /'

m

corruption ; to impress upon liim that there is but one path, and that one sober
industry, which can ever lead him to happiness ; to teach him how ijt may he
trodden, if his footsteps have never yet been led that way ; and to lure him bat Iv
to it it they have strayed : in a word, to snatch him from destruction, and restoic
him to society a penitent and useful member. The importance of such an estab-
lishment, in every point of view, and with reference to every consideration of
humanity and social policy, requires no comment.

One other establishment closes the catalogue. It is the House of Correction
for the State, in which silence is strictly maintained, but where the prisoners have
the comfort and mental relief of seeing each other, and of worlcing together.
This is the improved system of Prison Discipline which we have imported into
England, and which has been in successful operation among us for some years
past.

America, as a new and not over-populated country, has in all her prisons, tlic
one great advantage, of being enabled to find useful and profitable work for
the inmates ; whereas, with us, the prejudice against prison labour is naturally
very strong, and almost insurmountable, when honest men who have not offended
against the laws are frequently doomed to seek employment in vain. Even in the
United States, the principle of bringing convict labour and free labour into a com-
petition which must obviously be to the disadvantage of the latter, has already
found many opponents, whose number is not likely to diminish with access of
years.

For this very reason though, our best prisons would seem at the first glance to
be better conducted than those of America. The treadmill is conducted with
little or no noise ; five hundred men may pick oakum in the same room, without a
sound ; and both kinds of labour admit of such keen and vigilant superintendence,
as will render even a word of personal communication amongst the prisoner^
almost impossible. On the other hand, the noise of the loom, the forge, the car-
penter's hammer, or the stonemason's saw, gieatly favour those opportunities of
intercourse — hunied and brief no doubt, but opportunities still — which these
several kinds of work, by rendering it necessary for men to be employed very
near to each other, and often side by side, without any bariier or partition between
them, in their very nature present. A visitor, too, requires to reason and reflect a
little, before the sight of a number of men engaged in ordinary labour, such as he is
av^customed to out of doors, will impress him half as strongly as the contemplation
of the same persons in the same place and garb would, if they were occupied in
some task, marked and degraded everywhere as belonging only to felons in jails.
In an Arri«?rican state prison or house of correction, I found it difficult at first to
persuade myself that I v.-as really in a jail : a place of ignominious punishment
and endurance. And to this hour I veiy much question whether the humane
boast that it is not like one, has its root in the true wisdom or philosophy of the
matter.

I hope I may not be misunderstood on this subject, for it is one in which I take
a sii :'Ug and deep interest. I incline as little to the sickly feeling which makes
eveiy canting lie or maudlin speech of a notorious criminal a subject of newspaper
report and general sjTnpathy, as I do to those good old customs of the good old
times which made England, even so recently as in the reign of the Third King
George, in respect of her criminal code and her prison regulations, one of the
most bloody-minded and barbarous countries on the earth. If I thought it would
do any good to the rising generation, I would cheerfully give ray consent to the
disinterment of the bones of any genteel highwayman (the more genteel, the more
cheerfully), and to their exposure, piecemeal, on any sign-post, gate, or g-ibbet,
that might be deemed a good elevation for the purpose. My reason is as well

«" W

Prison Discipline.

31

sc of Correction
le jprisoners have
'orking together,
^e imported into
5 for some years

her prisons, tlie
)fitable work for
)our is naturally
ave not offended
in. Even in the
bour into a com-
tter, has already

Avith access of

e first glance (0
conducted witli
room, without a
uperintendencc, ;
5t the prisoners !
e forge, the car-
:)pportunities of
11 — which these
employed very
irtition between :
on and reflect a :
•ur, such as he is ,
: contemplation i
!re occupied in
> felons in jails. '.
cult at first to ;
3us punishment
^r the humane \
ilosophy of the

n which I take
: which makes
:t of newspaper |
the good old '
le Third King
ns, one of the
ought it would
lonsent to the
iteel, the more
ate, or gibbet,
ason is as well

convinced that these gentry were as utterly w-^rthless and debauched villains, as
it is that the laws and jails hardened them in their evil courses, or that their won-
derful escapes were effected by the prison-turnkeys who, in those admirable days,
had always been felons themselves, and were, to the last, their bosom friends and
pot-companions. At the same time I know, as all men do or should, that the
subject of Prison Discipline is one of the highest importance to any community ;
and that in her sweeping reform and bright example to other countries on this
head, America has shown great wisdom, great benevolence, and exalted policy.
In contrasting her system, with that which we have modelled upon it, I merely
seek to show that with all its drawbacks, ours has some advantages of its own.

The House of Correction which has led to these remarks, is not walled, like
other prisons, but is palisaded round about with tall rough stakes, something after the
manner of an enclosure for keeping elephants in, as we see it represented in Eastern
prints and pictures. The prisoners wear a parti-coloured dress ; and those who
are sentenced to hard labour, work at nail-making, or stone-cutting. When I was
there, the latter class of labourers were employed upon the stone for a new cus-
tom-house in course of erection at Boston. They appeared to shape it skilfully
and with expedition, though there were very few among them (if any) who had
not acquired the art within the prison gates.

The women, all in one large room, were employed in making light clothing,
for New Orleans and the Southern States. They did their work in silence like
the men ; and like them were overlooked by the person contracting for their
labour, or by some agent of his appointment. In addidon to this, they arc every
moment liable to be visited by the prison officers appointed for that purpose.

The arrangements for cooking, washing of clothes, and so forth, are much
upon the plan of those I have seen at home. Their mode of bestowing the
prisoners at night (which is of general adoption) differs from ours, and is both
simple and effective. In the centre of a lofty area, lighted by windows in the
four walls, are five tiers of cells, one above the other ; each tier having before it a
light iron galleiy, attainable by stairs of the same construction and material : ex-
cepting tne lower one, which is on the ground. Behind these, back to back with
them and facing the opposite wall, are five conesponding rows of cells, accessible
by similar means : so that supposing the prisoners locked up in their cells, an
officer stationed on the ground, with his back to the wall, has half their number
under his eye at once ; the remaining half being equally under the observation
of another officer on the opposite side ; and all in one great apartment. Unless
this watch be corrupted or sleeping on his post, it is impossible for a man to
escape ; for even in the event of his forcing the iron door of his cell without
noise (which is exceedingly improbable), the moment he appears outside, and steps
into that one of the five galleries on which it is situated, he must be plainly and
fully visible to the officer below. Each of these cells holds a small truckle bed,
in which one prisoner sleeps ; never more. It is small, of course ; and the door
being not solid, but grated, and without blind cr curtain, the prisoner witliin is
at all times exposed to the obsen'ation and inspection of any guard who may pass
along that tier at any hour or minute of the night. Every day, the prisoners
receive their dinner, singly, through a trap in the kitchen wall ; and each man
carries his to his sleeping cell to eat it, where he is locked up, alone, for that
purpose, one hour. The whole of this arrangement struck me as being admirable;
and I hope that the next new prison we erect in England may be built on this plan.

I was given to understand that in this prison no swords or fire-arms, or even
cudgels, are kept ; nor is it probable that, so long as its present excellent manage-
ment continues, any weapon, offensive or defensive, will ever be required within
its bounds.

I ?-l

^

'■■'\m

' si

■ -«' \

32

American Notes.

Such are the Institutions at South Boston ! In 11 of them, the unfortunate or
degenerate citizens of the State are carefully instructed in their duties both to
God and man ; are surrounded by all reasonable means of comfort and happiness
that their condition will admit of; are appealed to, as members of the great
human family, however afflicted, indigent, or fallen ; are ruled by the strong
Heart, and not by the strong {though immeasurably weaker) Hand. I have de-
scribed them at some length ; firstly, because their worth demanded it ; and
secondly, because I mean to take them for a model, and to content myself with
saying of others we may come to, whose design and purpose are the same, that in
this Or that respect they practically fail, or differ.

I wish by this account of them, imperfect in its execution, but in its just in-
tention, honest, I could hope to convey to my readers one-hundredth part of the
giatification, the sights I have described, afforded me.

To an Englishman, accustomed to the paraphernalia of Westminster Hall, an
American Court of Law, is as odd a sight as, I suppose, an English Court of Law
would be to an American. Except in the Supreme Court at Washington (where
the judges wear a plain black robe), there is no such thing as a wig or gown con-
nected with the administration of justice. The gentlemen of the bar being bar-
risters and attorneys too (for there is no division of those functions as in England)
are no more removed from their clients than attorneys in our Court for the Relief
of Insolvent Debtors are, from theirs. The jury are quite at home, find make
themselves as comfortable as circumstances will permit. The witness is so little
elevated above, or put aloof from, the crowd in the court, that a stranger entering
durin^f a pause in the proceedings would find it difficult to pick him out from the
rest. And if it chanced to be a criminal trial, his eyes, in nine cases out of ten,
would wander to the dock in search of the prisoner, in vain ; for that gentleman
would most likely be lounging among the most distinguished ornaments of the
legal profession, whispering suggestions in his counsel's ear, or making a toothpick
out of an old quill with his penknife.

■ I could not but notice these differences, when I visited the courts at Boston. I
was much surprised at first, too, to observe that the counsel who interrogated the
witness under examination at the time, did so sitting. But seeing that he was
also occupied in writing down the answers, and remembering that he wr ^ alone
and had no "junior," I quickly consoled myself with the reflection that law was
not quite so expensive an artide here, as at home ; and that the absence jf sundry
formalities which we regard as indispensable, had doubtless a very favourable
influence upon the bill of costs.

In every Court, ample and commodious prevision is made for the accommoda-
tion of the citizens. This is the case all through America. In every Public
Institution, the right of the people to attend, and to have an interest in the pro-
ceedings, is most fully and distinctly recognised. There are no grim door-keepers
to dole out their tardy civility by the sixpenny-worth ; nor is there, I sincerely
believe, any insolence of office of any kind. Nothing national is exhibited for
money ; and no public officer is a showman. We have begun of late years to
imitate this good example. I hope we shall continue to do so ; and that in the
fulness of time, even deans and chapters may be converted.

In the civil court an action was trying, for damages sustained in some accident
Upton a railway. The witnesses had been examined, and counsel was addressing the
jury. The learned gentleman (like a few of his English brethren) was desperately
long-winded, and had a remarkable capacity of saying the same thing over and
over again. His great tli^e was " Warren the Engine driver," whom he pressed
into the service of everj' sentence he uttered. I listened to him for about a quarter of an

Courts of Law.

33

hour ; and, coming out of court at the expiration of that time, without the faintest
ray of enlightenment as to the merits of tlie case, felt as if I were at home again.

In the prisoner's cell, waiting to oe examined by the magistrate on a charge of
theft, was a boy. This lad, instead of being committed to a common jail, would
be sent to the asylum at South 13-oston, and there taught a trade ; and in the
course of time he would be bound apprentice to some respectable master. Thus,
his detection in this oflcnce, instead of being the prelude to a life of infamy and
a miserable death, would lead, there was a reasonable hope, to his being reclaimed
from vice, and becoming a worthy member of society.

I am by no means a wholesale admirer of our legal solemnities, many of which
impress me as being exceedingly ludicrous. Strange as it may seem too, there
is undoubtedly a degree of protection in the wig and gown — a dismissal of indi-
vidual responsibility in. dressing for the part — which encourages that insolent
bearing and language, and that gross perversion of the office of a pleader for The
Truth, so frequent in our courts of law. Still, I cannot help doubting whether
America, in her desire to shake off the absurdities and abuses of the old system,
may not have gone too far into the opposite extreme ; and whether it is not desira-
ble, especially in the small community of a city like this, where each man knows
the other, to surround the administration of justice with sone artificial barriers
against the " Hail fellow, well met " deportment of everyday life. All the aid it
can have in the very high character and ability of the Bench, not only here but
elsewhere,' it has, and well deserves to have ; but it may need something more :
not to impress the thoughtful and the well-informed, but the ignorant and heedless ;
a class' which includes some prisoners and many witnesses. These institutions
were established, no doubt, upon the principle that those who had so large a share
in making the laws, would certainly respect them. But experience has proved
this hope to be fallacious ; for no men know better than the Judges of America,
that on the occasion of any great popular excitement the law is powerless, and
cannot, for the time, assert its own supremacy. -^^ -^ ' " , -

The tone of society in Boston is one of perfect politeness, courtesy, and good
breeding. The ladies are unquestionably very beautiful — in face : but there I am
compelled to stop. Their education is much as with us ; neither better nor worse.
I had hijard some very marvellous stories in this respect ; but not believing them,
was not disappointed. Blue ladies there are, in Boston ; but like philosopijers of
that colour and sex in most other latitudes, they rather desire to be thought su-
perior than to be so. Evangelical ladies there are, likewise, whose attachment to
the forms of religion, and horror of theatrical entertainments, are most exemplary.
Ladies who have a passion for attending lectures are to be found among all classes
and all conditions. In the kind of provincial life which prevails in cities such as
this, the Pulpit has great influence. The peculiar province of the Pulpit in New
England (always excepting the Unitarian ministry) would appear to be the de-
nouncement of all innocent and rational amusements. The church, the chapel,
and the lecture-room, are the only means of excitement excepted ; and to the
church, the chapel, and the lecture-room, the ladies rcjort in crowds.

Wherever religion is resorted to, as a strong drink, and as an escape from the
dull monotonous round of home, those of its ministers who pei:)per the highest
will be 'the surest to please. They who strew the Eternal Path with the greatest
amount of brimstone, and who most ruthlessly tread down the flowers and leaves
that grow by the way-side, will be voted the most righteous ; and they who en-
large with the greatest pertinacity on the difficulty of getting into heaven, will be
considered by all true believers certain of going there : though it would be hard
to say by what process of reasoning this conclusion is arrived at. It is so at home,
and it is so abroad. With regard to the other means of excitement, the Lecture, it

n

■.IPP-

34

American Notes.

has at least the merit of bein^ always new. (^nc lecture treads so quickly on the hcds
of another, that none are reniemhercd ; ami the course of this month may he
safely repeated next, with its charm of novelty unbroken, an«l its interest unabatctl.

The fruits of the earth have their jriowth in corrujition. Out of the rottenness
of these thinps, there has sprunj^' up in lioston a sect of philosojihers known as
Transcendcntalists. On ini|uirinf; what this appellation mij^dU be supposed to
signify, I was given to understand that whatever was tmintcUigiblc would be ccr-
tainly transcendental. Not deriving much comfort from this elucidation, I pursued
the in(iuiry still further, and found that the Transcendcntalists nre Ibllowcrs di
my friend Mr. Carlyle, or I should rather say, of a follower of his, Mr. Ralph
Waldo Emei-son. This gentleman has wnttcn a volume of Essays, in which,
among much that is dreamy and fanciful (if he will panlon me for saying so), thcio
is much more that is true and manly, honest and bold. Transceufientalism Jias
its occasional vagaries (what school has not ?), but it has good healthful (lualitics
in spite «f them ; not least among the nundier a hearty disgust of Cant, and an
aptitude to detect her in all the million varieties of her everlasting wardrobe. Ami
therefore if I were a Bostonian, 1 think 1 would be a Transcendentalist.

The only preacher 1 heard in Boston was Mr. Taylor, who addresses himsill
peculiarly to seamen, and who was once a mariner Inmsclf. I found his chapi 1
down among the shipping, in one of the narrow, old, water-side streets, with a
gay blue flag waving freely from its roof. In the gallery opposite to the pulpit
were a little choir of male and female singers, a violoncello, and a violin. The
preacher aheady sat in the pidpit, which was raised on pillars, and ornamented
behind him with painted drapery of a lively and somewhat theatrical appearanc c.
He looked a weather-beaten hard-featured man, of about six or eight and fifty;
with deep lines graven as it were into his fiice, dark hair, and a stern, keen eye.
Yet the general character of his countenance was pleasant and agreeable. The
service commenced with a hymn, to Avhich succeeded an extern poraiy prayer, it
had the fault of frequent repetition, incidental to all such prayers ; but it was
plain and comprehensive in its doctrines, ami breathed a tone of general sympathy
and charity, which is not so commonly a characteristic of this form of address (o
the Deity as it might be. That done he opened his discourse, taking for his text
a passage from the Songs of Solomon, laid upon the desk before the commence-
ment of the service by some unknown member of the congregation: "Who is
this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on the arm of her beloved ! "

He handled his text in all kinds of ways, and twisted it into all manner of shapes ;
but always ingeniously, and with a rude eloquence, well-adapted to the compre-
hension of his hearers. Indeed if I be not mistaken, he studied their sympathies
and undei^tandings much more than the display of his own powers. His imagery
was all drawn from the sea, and from the incidents of a seaman's life ; and was often
remarkably good. He spoke to them of '* that glorious man, Lord Nelson," and of
CoUingAvood ; and drew nothing in, as the saying is, by the head and shoulders, but
brought it to bear upon his purpose, naturally, and with a sharp mind to its efi'ect.
Sometimes, when much excited with his subject, he had an odd way — compoundeil
of John Bunyan, and Balfour of Builey — of taking his gieat quarto Bible under his
arm and pacing up and down the pulpit with it ; looking steadily down, mean-
time, into the midst of the congiegation. Thus, when he applied his text to the
lirst assemblage of his hearers, and pictured the M'onder of the church at their
presumption in forming a congregation among themselves, he stopped short with
his Bible under his ann in the manner I have described, and pursued his discourse
after this manner :

** Who are these — who are they — who are these fellows ? where do thev come
from ? Where are they going to .'' — Come from ! "WTiat's the answer ? " — leaning

\ H

The Seamen s Preacher.

35

out of the pulpit, and pointing downward with his right hand : «• From below ! "
— starting hack again, and looking at the sailors ht-forc him : " From below, my
brethren. From under the hatches of sin, battened down above you by the >-\\\
one. That's where you came from ! "-—a walk up and down the pulpit: "and
where are you going " — stopping abruptly : " where are you going ? Aloft ! "
— very softly, and pointing upward : '• Aloft ! " — louder : •' aloft ! "—louder still :
•' That's where you are going — with a fair wind, — all taut and trim, steering direct
for Heaven in its glory, where there are no storms or foul weather, and where the
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary arc at rest."— Another walk : •* That's
where you're going to, my frien<,ls. That's it. Thai's the place. I'hat's the
port. That's the haven. It's a blessed harbour — still water there, in all changes
of the winds and tides ; no driving ashore upon the rocks, or slipping your cables
and running out to sea, there: I'eacc — Peace — I'eace — all peace!" — Another
walk, and patting the Jiible under his left arm : " What ! These fellows are coming
from the wiUierness, are they .'' Yes. From the dreary, blighted wilderness of
Iniquity, whose only crop is J3eath. But do they lean upon anything — do they
lean upon nothing, these poor seamen ?" — Three raps upon the Bible : '* Oh yes,
— Yes. — They lean upon the arm of their Beloved — three more raps: "upon
the arm of their Belo>vcd " — three more, and a walk : •' Pilot, guiding-star, and
compass, all in one, to all hands — here it is "—three more: "Here it is.
They can do their seaman's duty manfully, and be easy in their minds in the
utmost peril and danger, with this"— two more: "They can come, even these
poor fellows can come, from the wilderness leaning on the arm of their
Beloved, and go up — up — up ! "^ — raising his hand higher, and higher, at evcty
repetition of the word, so that he stood with it at last stietched above his head,
regarding them in a strange, rapt manner, and pressing the book triumphantly to
his breast, until he gradually subsided into some other portion of his di'^course.

I have cited this, rather as an instance of the preacher's eccentricities than his
merits, though taken in connection with his look and manner, and the character
of his audience, even this was striking. It is possible, however, that my favour-
able impression of him may have been greatly influenced and strengthened, firstly,
by his impressing upon his hearers that the true observance of religion was not
inconsistent with a cheerful deportment and an exact discharge of the duties of
their station, which, indeed, it scrupulously required of them ; and secondly, by
his cautioning them not to set up any monopoly in Paradise and its mercies. 1
never heard these two points so wisely touched (if indeed I have ever heard them
touched at all), by any preacher of that kind before.

Having passed the time I spent in Boston, in making myself acquainted with
these things, in settling the course I should take in my future travels, and in mixing
constantly with its society, I am not aware that I have any occasion to prolong
this chapter. Such of its social customs as I have not mentioned, however, may
be told ni a very fev words.

The usual dinner-hour is two o'clock. A dinner party takes place at Hve ; and
at an evening party, they seldom sup later than eleven ; so that it goes hard but
one gets home, even from a rout, by midnight. I never could find out any
diflference between a party at Boston and a party in London, saving that at the
former place all assemblies are held at more rational hours ; that the conversation
may possibly be a little louder and more cheerful ; and a guest is usually expected
to ascend to the very top of the house to take his cloak off; that he is certain to
see, at every dinner, an unusual amount of poultry on the table ; and at every
supper, at least two mighty bowls of hot stewed oysters, in any one of which a half-
grown Duke of Clarence might be smothered easily.

There are two theatres in Boston, of good size and construction, but sadly in

^t-

' . t

itln

3^>

Jmericdrt Notes.

want ol p;ittoi):\^<\ rho fow ladies who resort to Ihoin, sit, as ol lij^lit, in tlio
iVont rows ol the hoxos.

1 he 'oar is a hnjje room v.ith a stone floor, and there iieo|)le stand and smoke,
ami lo\ni>,'0 about, all the evening; : dioppitj^ in and out as the humour takes thetn.
There tv>o the stianj,»er is initiated into the mysteries of (iin-shn^. Cock-tail.
San^JM-ce, Mint lulep, Shcrrv-eobbler, Timber 'l)(»odIe. and other rare drinks.
The luniso is lull ol boarders, both married and sin^de, many ot whom sleep upon
the prenuses, and eontraet by the week lor their board and lod^^in^ : the eharj^f
lor which diminishes as thcv^jo neauM the sky to roost. A pvd)lie lauie is laid in
a very handsome hall lor breakfast, and Or dinner, and for supper. The part)
sitting down to^jethcr to these meals wili vaiy in number from one to .two
hundred : sometimes more. The advent of each of th.se epochs in the ilay is pro-
elaimcil by an awful k«^"K^ ^vhich shakes the very window-frames as it reverberate^
through the house, and horribly disturbs nervous foreigner^. Ihcrc is an ordinal)
for ladies, and an ordinary 1<m- gentlemen,

Tn otir private room the cloth could not, for any earthly consideration, have been
laid for dinner without a huge glass dish of cranberries it\ the middle of the table ;
and breakfast would have been no breakfast unless the principal dish were a
d'Mormed bccf-stcak with a great Hat bone in the centre, swinuning in hot butler,
and sprinkled with the very blackest of all possible pepjier. Our bedroom was
.spacious and airy, but (like" every bedroom on this side ol the Atlantic) very bareol
furnitm<\ having no curtains to the bVench bedstead or to the window. It had imu-
unusual bixurv, however, in the shape of a wardrobe of painted wood, something
smaller than an luiglisb. watch-box ; or if this comparison should be insullicient to
convey a just idea of its dimensions, they may lie estimated from the fact of m>
having lived for fomtccn days and night's in the lirm belief that it was a shower-
bath.

15^

_ CHAPTER IV.

AN AMKRICAN KAlLROAl>. l.OWKl.L AND ITS FACTORY SYSTl'^r.

Rkforf, leaving Boston, I devoted one day to an excursion to Lowell. I assign a
separate chaj^tcr to this visit ; not because I am about to describe it at any great
Icligth, b\it because I remember it as a thing by itself, and am desirous that my
vcadei-s should do the same.

I made acquaintance with an American railroad, on this occasion, for the fust
lime. As these works are pretty much alike all through the States, their general
charactciistics arc easily descnbed.

There arc no hi-st and second class carriages as with us ; but there is a gentle-
men's car and a ladies' car : the main distinction between which is that in the
first, evctybody smokes ; and in the second, nobociy does. As a black man never
travels with a white one, there is also a negro car ; which is a great blundering
clumsy chest, such as Gullivcv put to sea in, from the kingdom of Brobdingnag.
Theic is a s^^-'^t deal of joltivig, a great deal of noise, a great deal of wall, not
much w'irdow, a locomotive engine, a shriek, and a bell.

The c.a-s are like shabby omnibuses, but larger : holding thirty, forty, fifty,
people. The seats, instead of stretching from end to end, are placed crosswise.
Each seat holds two persons. There is a long row of them on each side of the
caravan, a narrow passage up the middle, and a door at both ends. In the centre

Raiiwtty Dlahgue,

37

'I H^ht, in Uk-

of (he carrinjjc tlirrc is usually n stove, fed with cliarcoal or anlliiacite coal ;
wliiili is for (Tic ni()s( part inl-liot. i( is iiisiilTctably close; aiifl yoii sec (he hot
iiii fluttorinj,' hct.vccti yourscll ami any other object you nuiy happen to look at,
lil(c (he ^host ol smoke.

In (he ladies' car, there area ^real many gentlemen who have ladies with (hem.
i hctc are also a i^rcat many ladies who have nobody with (hem : for any lady may
(ravel alone, from one end oldie Unitrd States to \\\y\ other, and be certain of the
most courteous and considerate treatment everywhere. The conductor or check-
taker, or ^uar»l, or whatever he may be, wears no uniform. Ife walks up and
down the car, and in and out of it, as his fancy di( tatcs ; leans against the door
with his hands in his pockets and stares at you, if vou chance to be a stranj^'cr ; or
enters into conversation with the passcnj^'crs aboiit him. A j^'reat many newspapers
are pulled otit, and a few of them are read. Kveiylnxly talks to you, or to aJiybody
( Isc who hits his fancy. If you are an l''nj,dishman, he expects that that railroad
is pretty much like an I'.n^^lish railroad. If you say "No," he says "Yes?"
(intciTo^ativelyK atnl asks in what respeet they difl'er. You enumerate the heads
of iliflcrcnce, one by one. .uid he says "Yes?" (still interrogatively) to each.
Then he j,messes that you don't travel faster in lOnj^dand ; and on your replying,' that
vou do, says "Yes?'' a^ain (still interro(,'ativcly), and it is (|ui(c evident, don't
believe it. After a lon^ pause he remarks, partly to you, and partly to the knob on
the top of his stick, that " ^'ankees are reckoned to be consiclcrable of a ^o-ahcad
people too ; " upon which you say " Yes," and then he says " Yes " again (aftir-
mattvely this time) ; and upon your looking out of window, tells you that behind
that hill, and some three miles from the next station, there is a clever town in a
smart lo-ca-lion, where he expects you have con-eluded to stop. Your answer in
the negative naturally leads to more (piestions in reference to your intended route
(always pronouncetl rout) ; and wherever you are g(»ing, you invariably learn that
you can't get there without imnieuse diHicully and danger, and that all the great
sights are somewhere else.

If a lady take a fancy to any male passenger's seat, the gentleman who
accompanies her gives him notice '''' the fact, and he immediately vaeates it with
great |)olitencss. Politics are nni.. . discussed, so are bank'- , is cotton. Quiet
jieople avyid the (juestion of the Presidency, for there will be a new election in
three years and a half, and party feeling runs very high : the great constitutional
feature of this institution bemg, that directly the acrimony of the last election is
over, the acrimony f)f the next one begins; which is an unsj)eakablc comfort to all
strong politicians and true lovers of their country : that is to say, to ninety-nine
men and boys out of every ninety-nine and a (puirter.

Except when a branch road joins the main one, there is seldom more than one
track of rails ; so that the roacf is very narrow, and the view, where there is a deep
cutting, by no means extensive. When there is not, the character of the scenery
is always the same. Mileaf* rmileof stunted trees : some hewn down b^ the axe,
some blown down by the wind, some half fallen and resting on their neighbours,
many mere logs half hidden in the swamp, others mouldered away to spongy
chips. The very soil of the earth is made up of minute fragments such as these ;
cacti pool of stagnant water has its crust of vegetable rottenness ; on every side
there arc the boughs, and trunks, and stumps of trees, in every possible stage of
decay, decomposition, and neglect. Now you emerge for a few brief minutes on
an open country, glittering with some bright lake or pool, broad as many an
English river, but so small here that it scarcely has a name ; now catch hasty
glimpses of a distant town, with its clean white houses and their cool piazzas, its

Erim New England church and school-house ; when whir-r-r-r ! almost before you
ave seen them, comes the same dark screen : the stunted trees, the stumps, the

AfHcriitin Koteu

lofip?, the MnKnniU wnlor— rtll «««) WVv tlu- l;\st {\\\\\ yiui scrm tnliavr Iutii ttnn«»pnt(nl
h.uk ajjiiin In ni;\}^ic.

Vlu' {\A\\\ Ci\lls at stitlimis in tho wooils, wluMr tho wild iinpossihilily ol unylunU
li.uitij^ tho '•niallovl leasoii (o ^rt out, is onh (<> be ri|nnllci| Iiy (he iippnn'iilh
»lovpvM;\te hopclrssiuss ol ihcic hrin^ anybody If ^jft in. It nislu h iuidss tin
luinpikc xwM, \\\\v\v \\\v\v is \\^^ ^\\U\ no poliiiMnan, no signal : nollnnK Iml ;i
ixMi};:n \yot>vUM^ ait h, on whirh i«( paintrd " Whkn imk w\\. RiNtss, look nri
toK \1U'. l.orv>Mv)i IVK." t >n it wluils luadloti^', divos ih.oii^jh tin- wtxxls a^jain,
rnuMjfos '\\\ tho lifjln. rlalti-ts oyoi liail atihc;. lutnMrs npon thr heavy ^nound,
«>hoot?* htMUWth a \\oodiM\ bvid^^o \vhi«h inlonpt'^ the lij^ht Us\ a sn-ond likoa NvinK,
suddonly .\\\.\lM'n«* all iho vlnnd^Miu^ <m hots in tl\r tnaii\ "-lirrt or a laijjt* town,
and daMKs on haphazard, pcll-n\cll, nc» k-oi iiothin^^, down tiu- niiddio oi tlii
ix>ad. Thett; Nvitn nioohanios \vt>tlvin}^ at thrit ttatirs, atui pi'oplo Icanitijj IVoin
fhoir dooiTs and windows, and bo\s lUnij^ Kites atui playin^^ inaihK's, and men
snn^Kinj;, ant! wonn n talKin^j, and thildreii eiawlinp, and plus hnnowin^, and
nnaccuston\o»l ho»cs plnn^jing and teaiinp, elose to tnc vi"*y tails their on, on,
on — tears the mad diajjon ol an onLMtie with its train of ears; seattcrin^ in all
dir<s titans a shower o( Innwinj^ snaiUs Itoin ils w»M)d liie ; sereoi hinj;», hissing,
yollinj;, j>:\ntii>^ ; \mtil at last the tliiisty monster slops beneath a eoveicd way to
think, the p» oj^o elusier tounvl, and you have time to breathe ajjain,

1 was nuU at tho stativ>n at LowoU^y a j^entloman iiUitnately eotmeetcd with the
manap'-ment ol the f.utoiies there; anil j^knlly putlinj^ tnyselT mider his j^tiidame,
tlrovc oiV at oneo to that ijuatter ol tho town in which the works, the objeel ol niy
visit, wctf situated. Althouj^h only just ol aj^ — lor it my recolleelion serve me,
it has btxM\ a n\anuraetnnn>; tv>wn barely one-anvl-t\\enly yoats— Lowell is a larpo,
popukM», tlnivinj; pkuo. Phoso indications ol its youth which liist attrait tlie
<?ye, give it a q\iainlness and oddity of character which, to a visitoi iVoni tho v)ld
country, is an\using enough. It was a very ditty wititet's day, ami tiothin{» in the
whole tv^wn lov^ked olvl to mo. except the tnud. which itt some parts was alim)Ht
knco-docp, nuvl tnight have boon deposited thoic, ot\ the subsiditi^ ol the wateis
after the l)o]u^e. In one place, thote was a new wooden chuieh, which, Itavin^
no stcoplo, and Ixmuj; yet utipaintod, looked like ait eitotinouspackinp-case withoul
any dirov^-tion upon it. In anothei thote was a laij;c hotel, wln»se w;uls and colon
iiados w-crc so crisp, and thin, and slij;hl, that it had exactly the appearance ol
1>cing Imilt witli cards. 1 was oaroful not to diaw my bieath as we passed, and
ticmblod when 1 saw a Winkman come mit upon tjic roof, lost with one ihouj^hlless
stamp of his toot he should ot\»sh tho sttucturc beneath him, and btinjj it rattliuL'
down. The vcty ri\cr that moves the machineiy in the mills (for they arc all
wojkc^l bv watot powet), seems to acipiite a new character fiont the fresh build-
inj;;s of bright icd biiok and painte^l wood among which it takes itscoui-se ; and to
Iv? as hj^htdicadeti, thouj;hiless, and brisk a young river, in its murmuringa and
lumbhngs. as one wouhl desiie to see. One would swear that every " BiUtcry,"
"Gvocciy,'" and " Bookbindeiy," and other kind of store, took its shutten> down
for the tii-st time, and started in business ycsteiday. The golden pestles and moi-
tai>; tixcii as signs ujion the sun-blind frames outside the Dniggists', appear to
have l>ccn just tutncd out oi the United Stales' Mint ; a d w hen I saw a baby of
some week or ten days oVX in a w onian's at tns at a strct t corner, 1 found myself
tmconsciously wondering whore it came fixim : never supi>osing for an instant that
it could have b-x^n boin in such a young town as that.

There are several factories in Lowell, each of which belongs to what we should
term a Conipany of 1^ oprietci-s, but w hat they call in America a Corporation. 1
went over several oi those ; such as a woollen frctoiy, a carpet factory, and a cot-
ton factory : examined them in cveiy part ; and sav them in their ordinary working

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nsju'tl, Willi no pirpfirntloti of ntiy Itlnfl, (»f-«lr)mrhirr frfFfn Hirlr f»r»1inary rvrry.dny
|iiiM('('iliiij»'». I tuny M'I'I •liiil I iim will ;i( (iiiiiiMlcd willi niir »ri;inii(ii( fiirin^ tdwrm
ill I' iijiliUHl, iiiul liavc viMJli'd miiiiy niilJH in KIiiik liuHtcr iitid risfwiitic in the sarrif

IIHIIIUM.

I li;»|i|MMir«il Iti lutlvr ill lln' Im'^I fiu'lruy ]n^\ n«» tlir (linfK»» hour wn») ov»m. lUKhhi-
i;iih w»ii' l(•^ulnin^^ In fluir work ; id'h-rd llic sliiirs i<\ the tiiill w«Tf {\\r<tu\\t'<\
\vi(li I hem n« I iiscended. Ihoy wore all well-drcMed, Init not to my thinkin^^
;(Im»vp llu'ii (itiidilinii; 1(11 I lil«r lo sri* llin hiiniMrr rinssi'i of ^oj irJy ((urfiil o(
ihrii dicss !Uid ii|i|if'iiriiiii c, iiiid rvcn, i( thry ith-ic^r, di-ioralrd wifh %\n.\\ liftlr
tiiiiUrl'* ;m cniiw williin Ihc < onipass of Ihrir m»Mn«. SitpjioMini; it r onlinrd wifhin
loasitnahlr limits, I would always ptnoiira^i' this l<iiid r»( (uidp, ni n worthy mIp-
mrnl ol s('1(-M";|»imI, in nny jn-iHon I «'m|ilov<'d ; iind shonld no ni<»rf hr d»'frrrr<l
liom doin^; so, hci.iimc some wirh hid (fmalc i''(cir«''l hrr Till Ifi a lovr of flrrns,
than I would allow my ( tmsliuclion of llir real irdrnt and mpaninj^ of the Snhbnth
to l)r inlluciuMMl hy any \v;niiin(,' to Ilic wril-di ;|)osfd, founded on his haclislidin^^
on llial paititiilai day, which mij,dit emanate hom the rath'.r douhtful authority ol
a nmiderei in N«'W^ale,

These ^iils, aH I have said, were all w«ll dressed; and that phrase nccTHsnrily
includes extreme cleanliJirss. They had seivireahle hfrnnelq, ^ood warm elonk^,
;ind shawls ; ;ind wcie not ahove <loj,"» and patlens. JVIorefiver, there were j»Iaccs
in the mill in whidi they <»Mihl rieposil these thifigs without injury; and there
were convenieiues for washing. They were healthy lf» appearance, funny of them
remaikalily so, and had the manners and depoilmcnl of younjj; women : not of
degraded limtes of lairdcn. '" I had seen in f>ne of those mills (hut I did not,
IIi()U}^di I looked for somethin, of this hind with a sharp eye), the most lispinjj,
miiuinf,', allected, and iidi( uions yoiin/^ creature tliat my imaj^inafion (oidd siij/-
j,'est. 1 shiMild have Ihoii^hl «)f the ( arcless, mopirif^', slatlerrdy, dej^raded, dtdl
reverHe(l //nrr seen that), and shoidd have been still well jilcased to look upmt
her.

The looms in which they worked, were as well ordered as themselves, fn the
windows of some, there were Lueeii pl;inls, which were Irainerl to »'.<Kle the jjlass ;
in all, there was as much fresh air, cleanliness, and comfort, as the nature of the
occimalion wouKI possihly admit f)f. Out of so lar^e a number of females, many
of wfiom were only then just ver^in^' upon womanhood, il may be reasrmably sup-
posed that some were delicate and fraj^jile in appearance : nf) df^ubt there were.
Hut f solemnly declare, that from all (he crowd I saw in the diflercnt factories that
tl.'iy, J cannot recall or separate one younj^' face that ^mvc rnc a painful impression;
not one younp ^irl whom, assurninj^ it to be matter (»f necessity that she should
gain her daily brea<l by the labour of her hands, I would have removed from those
M'orks if r had had the power.

They reside in v.arious boarding-houses near at hand. The owners of tlic mills
are particularly careful to allow no persons to enter upon the possession of these
houses, whose cliaracters have not undergone the most searcning anrl thorough
inquiry. Any complaint that is made aj,'ainst them, by the boarders, or by any
one else, is fully investigated ; and if good ground of complaint be shown to exist
against thevn, llieyare removed, and their occupation is handed over to some more
dcsei-ving person. There are a few children employed in these factories, but not
many. Tne laws of the .State forbid thoir working more than nine m.onths in the
year, and require that they be educated during the other three. For this purpose
there arc schools in Lowell ; and there arc churches and chapels of various persua-
sions, in which the young women may observe that form of worship in which they
have been educated. j

At some distance from the factories, and on the highest and pleasantest ground I

. ii;

40

American Notes,

in tho neighbourhood, stands their hospital, or boarding-house for tlie sick : it is
the best house in those parts, and was built by an eminent merchant for his own
residence. LiUe that institution at Boston, which I have before described, it is
not parcelled out into wards, but is divided into convenient chambers, each of
which has all the comforts of a very comfortable home. The principal medical
attendant resides under the same roof; and were the patients members of his own
family, they could not be better cared for, or attended with greater gentleness and
eonsidcration. The weekly charge in this establishment for each female patient is
tlirce dollars, or twelve shillings English ; but no girl employed by any of the cor-
porations is ever excluded for want of the means of payment. That they do not
very often want the means, may be gathered from the fact, that in July, 1841, no
fewer than nine hundred and seventy-eight of these girls were depositors in the
Lowell Savings Bank : the amount of whose joint savings was estimated at one
hundred thousand dollars, or twenty thousand English pounds.

I am now going to state three facts, which will startle a large class of readers on
this side of the Atlantic, very much.

Firstly, there is a joint-stock piano in a great many of the boarding-houses.
Secondly, nearly all these young ladies subscribe to circulating libraries. Thirdly,
they have got up among themselves a periodical called Thk Lowell Ofi<krin(},
" A repository of original articles, written exclusively by females actively employed
in the mills," — which is duly printed, published, and sold ; and whereof I brought
away from Lowell four hundred good solid pages, which I have read from
beginning to end.

The large class of readers, startled by these facts, will exclaim, \vith one voice,
" How very preposterous ! " On my deferentially inquiring why, they will answer,
" These things are above their station." In reply to that objection, I would beg
to ask what their station is.

It is their station to work. And they do work. They labour in these mills,
upon an average, twelve hours a day, which is unquestionably work, and pretty
t'ght work too. Perhaps it is above their station to indulge in such amusements,
on any terms. Are we quite sure that we in England have not formed our ideas
of the ''station" of working people, from accustoming ourselves to the contem-
plation of that class as they are, and not as they might be ? I think that if we
examine our own feelings, we shall find that the pianos, and the circulating
libraries, and even the Lowell Offering, startle us by their novelty, and not by
their bearing upon any abstract question of right or wrong.

For myself, I know no station in which, the occupation of to-day cheerfully
done and the occupation of to-morrow cheerfully looked to, any one of these pur-
suits is not most humanising and laudable. I know no station which is rendered
more endurable to the person in it, or more safe to the person out of it, by having
ignorance for its associate. I know no station which has a right to monopohse
the means of mutual instruction, improvement, and rational entertainment ; or
which has ever continued to be a station very long, after seeking to do so.

Of the merits of the Lowell Offering as a literary production, I will only
observe, putting entirely out of sight the fact of the articles having been written by
these girls after the arduous labours of the day, that it will compare advantage-
ously with a great many English Annuals. It is pleasant to find that many of its
Tales are of the Mills and of those who work in them ; that they inculcate habits
of self-denial and contentment, and teach good doctrines of enlarged benevolence.
A strong feeling for the beauties of nature, as displayed in the solitudes the writers
have left at home, breathes through its pages like wholesome village air; and
though a circiilating library is a favourable school for the study of such topics, it
has very scant allusion to fine clothes, fine marriages, fine houses, or fine life.

A.i^'

WhoUiotne Factor;^ System.

4'

of readers on

Some persons might object to the papers bciriR signed occasionally with rather
tine names, but this is an American fixshion. One of the provinces of the state
legislature of Massachusetts is to alter ugly names into pretty ones, as the children
improve upon the tastes of their parents. These changes costing little or nothing,
scores of Mary Annes are solennily converted into Bevelinas every session.

It is said that on the occasion of a visit from (ieneral Jackson or (ieneral Har-
rison to this town (I forget which, but it is not to the purpose), he walked throug.
three miles and a half of these young ladies a'li dressed out with parasols and silk
stockings. But as I am not aware that any worse consequence ensued, than a
sudden looking-up of all the parasols and silk stockings in the market ; and perhaps
the bankruptcy of some speculative New Knglander who bought them all up a* any
price, in expectation of a demand that never came ; 1 set no great store by the cir-
cumstance.

Jn this l)rief account of Lowell, and inadequate expression of the giatification it
yielded me, and cannot fail to afford to any foreigner to whom the condition of
such people at home is a subject of interest and anxious speculation, I have care-
fully abstained from drawing a comparison between these factories and those of
our own land. Many of the circumstances whose strong influence has been at
work for years in oy^r manufacturing towns have not arisen here ; and there is no
manufacturing population in Lowell, so to speak : for these girls (often the daughters
of small farmers) come from other States, remain a few years in the mills, and
then go home for good.

The contrast would be a strong one, for it would be between the Good and Evil,
the livin<T light and deepest shadow. I abstain from it, because I deem it just to
do so. 3ut I only the more earnestly adjure all those whose eyes may rest on
these pages, to pause and reflect upon the difference between this town and those
great haunts of desperate misery: to call to mind, if they can in the midst of party
strife and squabble, the efforts that must be made to purge them of their suffering
and danger : and last, and foremost, to remember how the precious Time is
rushing by.

I returned at night by the same railroad and in the same kind of car. One of
the passengers being exceedingly anxious to expound at great length to my com-
jianion (not to me, of course) the true principles on which books of travel in
America should be written by Englishmen, I feigned to fall asleep. But glancing
all the way out at window from the corners of my eyes, I found abundance of
entertainment for the rest of the ride in watching the effects of the wood fire,
which had been invisible in the morning but were now brought out in full relief by
the darkness : for we were travelling in a whirlwind ^2 bright sparks, which
showered about uy like a storm of fiery snow.

CHAPTER \.

WORCESTER.

THE CONNECTICUT RIVER. HARTFORD.
TO NEW YORK.

NEW HAVEN.

Le/vVING Boston on the afternoon of Saturday the fifth of February, we pro-
ceeded by another railroad to Worcester : a pretty New England town, where we
had arranged to remain under Ihe hospitable roof of the Governor of the State,
until Monday morning.

These towns and cities of New England (many of which would be villages in

I'

i '

4^

of y\\\,\\ A>«»'iiiiMiH. riu" wrll-tniniMiil lawns ai\(l ^i«i n nu'mlnwH «>! Iimne an-
not ihotr ; un«l tlu* fjinsn, (ontpatril with out oinanu ntal plots and pasliitr^, is
lanU, an«l «ouj>h, and wiM : l»ul lU'liralc sloprs nl liml, ^jiMilly swt'lliii>» hills.
\\ooth>il \.\lli\s, and slin«U'i stirams, ahout\»l. Ivvny lillU' tolnin «t| hmisrs has
its ihntth atut sthool-hoiisc pt'rpiiuj lioni an\onj{ thr xvliiU" tools ami shaily trees;
t'xny ho\»Ho is Iho \vhit«'st ol (lu- whit*'; oviiy Vcnotian Mitnl llic ^^tcrnist ol the
j;»vrn ; «>viMV h'U* May's sKy (lu* l»hirst ol ihr Mnc. A -^hatp iliy wind mikI a
slij^ht <Vost had ■'O hudt'nrd tin* toads whin wi' ali^htrd al \Voiir<U'», llial theii
l\nii>\vctl ttaiKs wrto liUo vidj,'OH ol mainto. Ihrn' was the nstial aspci I ol new-
ness WW c\oi\ ohjrtt, ol roiusr. All iht* huddinj»s loolu'd as il llu'y had Itron
h»iilt and j>a\nlod that n\on\in>^, and lould ho (alun down on Monday with vci)
little tnnti>lo. In the koon cviMnn}* aii, v\v\\ sharp outline looltod a hundu'd
times shatpet than ever. I'he » lean e.ndhoaid i olonnadc- had no ntoie pctspri li\r
than a Thtne'-e l>iidj>e oti a tea-rnp, and appealed e»pially well ealnilated lot use.
rhe ra/»)i-hke edm^s »)( th(» dt'tav hed eotta^es seemed (o ml the very wind as it
whistlcti against tneni. ai\d to send it sinaitii\^ on its way with a shriller eiy than
lufoiv. I nose slif>htl\ Iniilt w(M)den dwclhnj^s luhind whith the '•nn w..s seltinj,'
with a htilhant histve, eould he so looked thionj,'h atid linonj^h, that tln> idea ol
any inhabitant hein^ rthle to hide himself iVont the pnhlie j,'a/e, tM to have any
seerets iVonHhe p\>hlii- eve, was not enleilainahle lot a nioincnl. h'.venwherea
hlaziujj tire shone throii^h the nneinlanuMl windows ol sonu' distant honst', i( had
the air i^r Ih mp newly hj^hted, and ol laeUin^^ wannth ; and instead of awal<enin^»
thouj^hts ot a snn|> ehaniher. hiij^ht with faees that lirst saw the li^'hl round that
same hearlh, and r\iddy with watin hat\)^inj;s, it i an\e u|>on one sti^j^'cstive ol
the smell \>f new tnoitar and dan^p walls.

So 1 thourht. at least, that eviMun^. Next motnine; when the stin was shiniiij»
hiighlly, and the elear eh\n\h hells weie linj^inj;, ami sedate people in Iheii best
clothes enlivened the pathway near at hand and dotted the distant thtcad ol road,
there was a pleasant Sahhath peaeel\dness on evetythinj;. whieh it was ^ood to
feci. It wovud have been the belter for an old ehureh ; belter still h)r some old
j^aves ; but as it was, a wholesome tepose and ttampiillily peivatled the scene,
V hich at'ier the lestlcbs ocean and the hxuried city, had a doubly grateful inlluciico
on ihc spiiits.

Wo yx'cnl on next ni<'>rnini:, still by railrf>ad, to Springfield, h'rotn thai place
to U.irtfoixl, whither we were bound, is a distance of only live-and-twcnly
miles, but at that time oi the year the roads were ^o bad that the journey would
probably have oocupic<l ten or twelve homT>. b'ortunately, however, the winter
naxini; been unusually niiM, the Connecticut River was •' ojien," or, in other
words, not frozen. V\\c captain of ;\ small steam-boat was j;oinjj to make his lirsl
trip for the season that day (the second l-'ebruary trip, 1 believe, within the
memory of m.in\, and onlv waited for us to j»o on board. Accordinj^ly, we went
on Ix'^aid, with as little vlelay as mii;ht be. .He was as ^ood as his W()rd, and
st.ivle*! dircxnly.

It certainly was not called a small steam-boat without reason. I omitted to
.isk the qxicstion, but 1 should think it must have been of about half a pony power.
Mr. P.i.ip, the celebrated Dwait", might h.ue lived and died haj^pily in the cabin,
which was titled with common sash-windows like ^n ordinary dwelling-house.
These windows had biigln-ixHi eutlains, loo, hung on slack strings across the
lower panes ; so that it looked like the parlour of a Lilliputian public-house,
which had got a{\oM in a llood or some other water accident, and was drifting
noKxh- knew w here. But c\en in this chamber there was a rocking-chair. It
would be impossible to get on anywhere, in America, without a rocking-chair.

:V

j4h Ant(dUuvi*m,

45

I iiin iiliiitil tn I* I) )m)W III iiiy rcrt short ihi<« Vf^iNcI wn<i, nr Ikiw tntitiy feet
niiiinw <«• ipl'ly nir wnnh Irii^jtli nful widlli Jo sin li nirnsiir«'fn«'iil W(»iilf| Ik* i
I iiiiliiKiu lion in Iciiih. hut i iimv sliilr llial wc nil l<r|)( Ihc iiii'MIr ol (lir deck,
li'Ht the lioitl siuitiltl iiiicKpci iiilly tip over ; nnd thai (Im> itnu liincry, hy sonu?
siiipii'^in^' pKuf'^M of I nndi'Msiition, woikt rl lirlwccn it and Ihc l«;(d : the whole
(nmiin^; a waiin Maiid\vi< li, al>oiil llir«'c Ifil llii» k.

II iiiiiHil ;dl day as I iuk c llMai^dil il iiivct did lain aiiywhrrc, hut in llif* lli^di
laiwh or Srolhind. I lie tivii wn^ full of lloafint,' l»lof kn of icr, whi« li wi-ro con-
staiilly < Mini liiii|; and < in kiii^; iiiidii ii"^ ; and llic di-jilli of \vat«-i, in lli'- coiir^p we
liMiJi ill avoid llic lai^^ri in i^si ^;, (unied down llir niiddk* o( Ihc rivrr l»y tin-
(iiinnt, did init exceed ii few inches. NovrrthclcsH, we moved onward, ilexlc
loiisly; and liciny well wia|i|ird up, liade drliafii e to llie wcallnT, and enjoyid
llic )oiiiiii'v. I lie ( oniii'( III III l<i\(t i'^ a fine slicani ; and iIm- It.mk'i in mnntiK i-
liiiir an", I liavt' no doiiM, lioaiilifiil : at nil rvcniM, I was lo|<i sr; liy a yoiinjj lady
in the < aliin ; and she slnaild lie a jiid^r ol Ixaiily, if the jiosscKsirui of a f)iialily
iiK hide Ihc appin iatioii III il, Im a iiioic licaiitirni ( icatinc \ never looked upon.

Allti two lioiiis and a liall ol this odd travelling' (ini liKlinj,' ii stoppage A a
snifdl town, where we were saliitcf! I>y n nun conHiderahly liij^'^jcr than our own
( hininey), w<' reached llailfnid, and sliai^hlway rroalred lo an extremely <:<»mforf-
alijr lioli I ; exrcpl, im usual, in Ihe ailiileol liedi(;oniK, which, in almost every
plaii> we visited, Were very ( oiidiii ive to early lisinjj.

We tarried here, four days. The town is lieaiilifiilly situated in a liasin of (^ecn
hills; Ihr soil is lieh, well-wooded, and eareliilly inipioved. It is Ihe seat of the
local lej,'islaluie of ( Jmnri licul, whi( Il si^jr liody enacted, in liy^onc times, the
renowned code of " Ulnc Laws," in virtue whereof, amoni; other enlightened pro-
visions, any lili/en who ((uild In proved to have kissed liis wife on Sunday, was
piinishalile, I lielieve, with Ihe locks. Too mu( h of the old j'uritnn spirit exists
III these pails lo Ihejireseiit hour; liiit its inniieiice has not tended, that I l:now,
to make Ihc people less hard in their bargains, or more ecpial in their dealings.
As I never heard of ils working thai eflect anywhere else, f infer that it never will,
lieic. Indeed, I am aec iislonicd, with reference to j,Meat professionH and severe
faces, to judtjc of the ^'oods of the other world pretty much as 1 JiidKe of the
miods of this; and whenever I see a dealer in such commodities witfi too ^Tcat a
display of them in his window, I doiihl the cpiality of the article within.

III I laiHord stands the famous oak in which the charter of Kin^ Charles was
hidden. Il is now inclosed in n gentleman's jjarden. In the State House is Ihe
charier itself. I found the (oiirts of law here, just the «ame as at Jic^ston ; the
public institutions almost as ^ood. 'Ihe Insane Asylum is admirably conducted,
and so is the rnstitulion for the Deaf and J)uml).

I vei")' much cpicslioncfl within niyscdf, as I walk(;d throuiLjh the Insane Asylum,
whelher I should have known the attendants from the patients, but for the few
words which passed between the former, and the Doctor, in reference to the
persons tinder their charge. Of course 1 limit this remark merely t(^ their l(;ok.s;
lor the conversation of the mad people was mad enoiij:,'h.

There was one little prim old lady, of very smilinj^ and fjood -humoured
api)caranoc, who came sidling' up to me from the end of a lon^ passage, and
with a curtsey of inexpressible condescension, propoundeci this unaccountable
inquiry :

'* Does Pontefract still flourish, sir, upon the soil of England ?"

*• He docs, ma'am," I rejoined.

'* When you last saw him, sir, he was — "

'* Well, ma'am," said I, " extremely well. He begged me to present his com-
pUmcnts. I never saw him looking belter."

l: !t

I

t;i;vs

44

American Notes.

At this, the old lady was vr}' much delighted. After glancing at me for a
moment, as if to be quite sure that I was serious in my respectful air, she sidled
back some paces ; sidled forward again ; made a sudden skip (at which I precipi-
tately retreated a step or two) ; and said :

"/am an antediluvian, sir."

I tliought the best thing to say was, that I had suspected as much from the first.
Therefore I said so.

'* It is an extremely proud and pleasant thing, sir, to be an antediluvian," said
the old lady.

"I should think it was, ma'am," I rejoined.

The old lady kissed her hand, gave another skip, smirked and sidled down the
gallery in' a most extraordinary manner, antl ambled gracefully into her own
bed-chamber.

In another part of the building, there was a male patient in bed ; very much
flushed and heated.

" Well," said he, starting up, and pulling off his night-cap : *« It's all Settled at
last. I have arranged it with Queen Victoria."

*' Arranged what ? " asked the Doctor.

"Why, that business," passing his hand wearily across his forehead, "about
the siege of New York."

" Oh ! " said I, like a man suddenly enlightened. For he looked at me for an
answer.

" Yes. Every house without a signal will be fired upon by the British troops.
No harm will be done to the others. No harm at all. Those that want to be
safe, must hoist flags. That's all they'll have to do. They must hoist flags."

Even while he was speaking he seemed, I thought, to have some faint idea that
his talk was incoherent. Directly he had said these words, he lay down again ;
gave a kind of a groan ; and covered his hot head with the blankets.

There was another : a young man, whose madness was love and music. After
playing on the accordion a march he had composed, he was veiy anxious that I
should walk into his chamber, which I immediately did.

By way of being veiy knowing, and humouring him to the top of his bent, I
went to the window, which commanded a beautiful prospect, and remarked, with
an address upon which I greatly plumed myself :

"What a delicious country you have about these lodgings of yours."

" Poll !" said he, moving his fingers carelessly over the notes of his instrument:
" Well enough for such an Institution as this .'"

I don't think I was ever so taken aback in all my life.

" I come here just for a whim," he said coolly. " That's all."

"Oh! That's all !" said I.

"Yes. That's all. The Doctor 's a smart man. He quite enters into it. It's
a joke of mine. I like it for a time. You needn't mention it, but I think I shall
go out next Tuesday ! "

I assured him that I would consider our intei-view perfectly confidential ; and
rejoined the Doctor. As we were passing through a gallery on our way out, a
well-dressed lady, of quiet and composed manners, came up, and proffering a slip
of paper and a pen, begged that I would oblige her with an autograph. I com-
plied, and we parted.

" I think I remember having had a few interviews like that, with ladies out of
doors. I hope she is not mad .'"'

"Yes."

" On what subject .'' Autographs?"

" No. She he.ars voices in the air."

1 i-i

\^MS

Political Friends.

45

at me for a
, she sidled
:h I precipi-

om the first,
ivian," said

d down the
o her own

very mucli

11 Settled at

d, "about

: me for an

ish troops,
i^ant to be
flags."
t idea that
*vn again ;

ic. After
ous that I

lis bent, I
ked, with

strument :

3 it. It's
ik I shall

tial; and
ay out, a
ing a slip
I com-
es out of

<* Well !" thought I, ** it would be well if we could shut up a few false prophets
of these later times, who have professed to do the same ; and I should like to try
the experiment on a Mormonist or two to begin with."

In this place, there is the best Jail for untried ofl'endcrs in the world. There is
also a very well-ordered State prison, arrangv^d upon the same phn as that at
Boston, except that here, there is always a sentry on the wall with a loaded gun.
It contained at that time about two hundred prisoners. A spot was shown me in
the sleeping ward, where a watchman was murdered some years since in the dead
of night, in a desperate attempt to escape, made by a prisoner who had broken
from his cell. A woman, too, was pointed out to me, who, for the murder of her
husband, had been a close prisoner for sixteen yeais.

" Do you think," I asked of my conductor, " that after so very long an impri-
sonment, she has any thought or hope of ever regaining her liberty ? '

'* Oh dear yes," he answered. *• To be sure she has."

*' She has no chance of obtaining it, I suppose ?"

" Weil, I don't know :" which, by-the-bye, is a national answer. *' Her friends
mistrust her."

" What have they to do with it } " I naturally inquired.

" Well, they won't petition."

" But if they did, they couldn't get hei out, I suppose?''

" Well, not the first time, perhaps, nor yet the second, but tiling and wearying
for a few years might do it."

" Does that ever do it .?"

"Why yes, that'll do it sometimes. Political friends '11 do it sometimes. It's
pretty often done, one way or another."

I shall always enf.ertain a very pleasant and grateful recollection of Hartford. It
is a lovely place, and I had many friends there, whom I can never remember with
indifference. We left it with no little regret on the evening of Friday the nth,
and travelled that night by railroad to New Haven. Upon the w^y, the guard and
I were formally introduced to each other (as we usually were on such occasions),
and exchanged a variety of small-talk. We reached New Haven at about eight
o'clock after a journey of three hours, and put up for the night at the best inn.

New Haven, known also as the City of Elms, is a fine town. Many of its
streets (as its alias sufficiently imports) ure planted with rows of grand old elm-
trees ; and the same natural ornaments surround Yale College, an establishment
of considerable eminence and reputation. The various departments of this Insti-
tution are erected in a kind of park or common in the middle of the town, where
they are dimly visible among the shadowing trees. The eftect is very like that of
an old cathedral yard in England ; and when their branches are in full leaf, must
be extremely picturesque. Even in the winter time, these groups of well-grown
trees, clustering among the busy streets and houses of a thriving city, have a very
quaint appearance : seeming to bring about a kind of compromise between town
and country ; as if each had met the other half-way, and shaken hands upon it ;
which is at once novel and pleasant.

After a night's rest, we rose early, and in good time went down to the wharf,
and on board the packet New York for New York. This was the first American
steamboat of any size that I had seen ; and certainly to an English eye it was in-
finitely less like a steamboat than a huge floating bath. I could hardly persuade
myself, indeed, but that the bathing establishment off Westminster Bridge, which
I left a baby, had suddenly grown to an enormous size ; run away from home ;
and set up in foreign parts as a steamer. Being in America, too, which our vaga-
bonds do so particularly favour, it seemed the more probable.

The great diiFerence in appearance between these packets and ours, is, that there

pi

J'l 1

n^-

i ri

l'.

1^ <

In <

■ «

46

Jmericijn Notes.

is so much of them out of the water : the main-dock bcinj^ enclosed on all sides,
and filled with casks ami goods, like any second or third floor in a stack of ware-
houses ; anil the promenade or hurricane-deck being a-top of that again. A part
of the machinery is always above this deck ; where the connecting-rod, in a strong
and lofty frame, is seen working away like an iron top-sawyer. There is seldom
any mast or tackle : nothing aloft but two tall black chinmeys. The man at the helni
is shut up in a little house in the fore part of the boat (the wheel being connected
with the nuKler by iron chains, working the whole length of the deck); and the
passengers, unless the weather be very fmc indeed, usually congregate below.
Directly you have left the wharf, all the life, and stir, and bustle of a packet
cease. You wonder for a long time how she goes on, for there seems to be nobody
in charge of her ; and when another of these dull machines comes splashing by,
you feel (piite indignant with it, as a sullen, cumbrous, ungraceful, unshiplikc levi-
•athan : quite forgetting that the vessel you are on board of, is its very counterpart.

There is always a clerk's oflice on the lower deck, where you pay your fare ; a
ladies' (?abin ; baggage and stowage rooms ; engineer's room ; and m short a great
variety of perplexities which render the discovery of the gentlemen's cabin, a mat-
ter of some dilhculty. It often occupies the whole length of the boat (as it did in
this case), and has three or four tiers of berths on each side. ^Vhcn T first descended
into the cabin of the New York, it looked, in my unaccustomed eyes, about as long
as the Burlington Arcade.

The Sound which has to be crossed on this passage, is not always a very safe or
pleasant navigation, and has been the scene of some unfortunate accidents. It was
a wot morning, an^l very misty, and we soon lost sight of land. The day was calm,
however, and brightened towards noon. After exhausting (with good help from a
friend) the larder, and the stock of bottled beer, I lay down to sleep : bemg very
much tired with the fatigues of yesterday. But I woke from my nap in time to
hurry up, and see Hell Gate, the Hog's Back, the FryMng Pan, and other notorious
localities, attractive to all readers of famous Diedrich Knickerbocker's History.
We were now in a narrow channel, with sloping banks on either side, besprinkled
with pleasant villas, and made refreshing to the sight by turf and trees. Soon we
-hot in quick succession, past a lighthouse ; a madhou .e (how the lunatics flung up
thoir caps and roared in sympathy with the headlong engine and the driving tide !) ;
a jail ; and other buildings : and so emerged into a noble bay, whose waters
sparkled in the now cloudless sunshine Uke Nature's eyes turned up to Heaven.

Then there lay stretched out before us, to the right, confused heaps of buildings,
with here and there a spire or steeple, looking down upon the herd llow; and
here and there, again, a cloud of lazy smoke ; and in the foreground a forest of
ships' masts, cheery with flapping sails and waving flags. Crossing from among
them to the opposite shore, were steam feiry-boats laden with people, coaches,
horses, waggons, baskets, boxes : crossed and recrossed by other ferry-boats : all
travelling to and fro ; and never idle. Stately among these restless Insects, were
two or three large ships, moving with slow majestic pace, as creatures of a prouder
kind, disdainful of their pun v journeys, and making for the broad sea. Beyond,
were shining heights, and islands in the glancing river, and a distance scarcely less
blue and bright than the sky it seemed to meet. The city's hum and buzz, the
clinking of capstans, the ringing of bells, the barking of dogs, the clattering of
wheels, tingled in the listening ear. All of v.hich life and stir, coming across the
sti' ring water, caught new life and animation " cm its free companionship ; and,
sjnnpathising with its buoyant spirits, glistened as it seemed in sport upon its sur-
face, and hemmed the vessel round, and plashed the water high about her sides,
and, floating her gallantly into the dock, flew off again to welcome other comers,
.•>nd speed before them to the busy port.

Streets in Warm IV e tit her.

47

CHAPTER VI.

NEW YORK.

Thk beautiful metropolis of America is by no means so clean a city as Boston,
hut many of its streets have the same characteristics ; except that the houses are
not f|uilc so fresh-coloured, the si^n-boards are not quite so gaudy, the gilded
letters not quite so goklen, the bricks not (juite so red, the stone not quite so
white, the blinds and area railings not quite so green, the knobs and plates upon
the street doors, not c|uite so bright and twinkling. There are many by-streets,
almost as neutral in clean colours, and positive in dirty ones, as by-strecls in
London ; and there is one quarter, commonly called the Five Points, which, in
respect of tilth and wretchedness, may be safely backed against Seven Dials, or
any other part of famed St. Giles's. •

The great promenade and thoroughfare, as most people know, is Broadway ;
a wide and bustling street, which, from the Battery Gardens to its opposite
termination in a country road, may be four miles long. Shall we sit down in an
upjicr floor of the Carlton House Hotel (situated in the best part of this main
artery of New York), and when we are tired of looking down upon the life below,
sally forth arm-in-arm, and mingle with the stream ?

Warm weather ! The sun strikes upon our heads at this open window, as
though its rays were concentrated through a burning-glass ; but the day is in its
zenith, and tlie season an unusual one. Was there ever such a sunny street as
this Broadway ! The pavement stones arc polished with the tread of feet until
they shine again ; the red bricks of the houses might be yet in the dry, hot kilns ;
and the roofs of those omnibuses look as though, if water were poured on them,
they would hiss and smoke, and smell like half-quenched fires. No stint of
omnibuses here ! Half-a-dozen have gone by within as many minutes. Plenty of
hackney cabs and coaches too; gigs, phaetons, large-wheeled tilburies, and private
cannages — rather of a clumsy make, and not very different from the public
vehicles, but built for the heavy roads beyond the city pavement. Negro coach-
men and white ; in straw hats, black hats, white hats, glazed caps, fur caps ; in
coats of drab, black, brown, green, blue, nankeen, striped jean and linen ; and
there, in that one instance (look while it passes, or it will be too late), in suits of
livery. Some southern republican that, who puts his blacks in uniform, and
swells with Sultan pomp and power. Yonder, where that phaeton with the well-
clipped pair of grays has stopped — standing at their heads now — is a Yorkshire
groom, who has not been very long in these parts, and looks sorrowfully round for
a companion pair of top-boots, which he may traverse the city half a year without
meeting. Heaven save the ladies, how they dress ! We have seen more colours
in these ten minutes, than we should have seen elsewhere, in as many days.
What various parasols ! what rainbow silks and satins ! what pinking of thin
stockings, and pinching of thin shoes, and fluttering of ribbons and silk tassels,
and display of rich cloaks with gaudy hoods and linings ! The young gentlemen
nrc fond, you see, of turning down their shirt-collars and cultivating their whiskers,
especially under the chin ; but they cannot approach the ladies in their dress or
bearing, being, to say the truth, humanity of quite another sort. Byrons of the
desk and counter, pass on, and let us see what kind of men those are behind ye :
those two labourers in holiday clothes, of whom one carries in his hand a crumpled
scrap of paper from which he tries to spell out a hard name, while the other looks
about for it on all the doors and windows.

^v^

" I;

•i

I

1^

48

American Notes.

\ v f

.■\

Irishmen both ! You might know thcni, if they were masked, by their lonp-
tailcd bhie coats and brij;ht buttons, and their drab trousers, which tliey wear like
men well used to working; dresses, who arc easy in no others. It would be hard
to keep your model republics Roinj.', without the countrymen and comitrywomcn
of those two labourers. For who else would dig, and delve, and drudge, and do
domestic work, and make canals and roads, and execute great lines of Interna!
Improvement ! Irishmen both, and sorely puzzled too, to find out what they seek.
Let us go down, and help them, for the lovC of home, and that spirit of libert)
which admits of honest service to honest men, and honest work for honest bread,
no matter what it be.

That's well ! We have got at the right address at last, though it is written in
strange charactci-s truly, and might have been scrawled with the blunt handle of
the spade the writer better knows the use of, than a pen. Their way lies yonder,
but what b-"^'ness takes them there ? They carry savings ; to hoard up ? No.
They are brotiiers, those men. One crossed the sea alone, and working very hard
for one half year, and living harder, saved funds enough to bring the other out.
That done, they worked together side by side, contcntcdiysharing hard labour and
hard living for another term, and then their sisters came, and then another brother,
and lastly, their old mother. And what now ? Why, the poor old crone is restless
in a strange land, and yearns to lay her bones, she says, among her people in the
old graveyard at home : and so th.cy go to }iay her passage back : and (iod help her
and them, and every simple heart, and all who turn to the Jerusalem of their
younger days, and have an altar-fire upon the cold hearth of their fathers.

This narrow thoroughfare, baking and blistering in the sun, is Wall Street:
the Stock Exchange and Lombard Street of New York. Many a rapid fortime
has been made in this street, and many a no less rapid ruin. Some of these very
merchants whom you see hanging about here now, have locked up money in the;
strong-boxes, like the man in the Arabian Nights, and opening them again, have
found but withered leaves. Below, here by the water side, where the bowsprits
of ships stretch across the footway, and almost thrust themselves into the windows,
lie the nobi'^ American vessels wliich have made their Packet Service the finest in
the world. They have brought hither the foreigners who abound in all the streets :
not, perhaps, that there are more here, than in other commercial <..ties ; but else-
where, they have particular haunts, and you must find them out ; here, they
per\'ade the town.

We must cross Broadway again ; gaining some refreshment from the heat, in
the sight of the great blocks of clean ice which are being caiTied into shops and
bar-rooms ; and the pine-apples and water-melons profusely displayed for sale.
Fine streets of spacious houses here, you see ! — Wall Street has furnished and
dismantled many of them very often — and here a deep green leafy square.
Be sure that is a hospitable house with inmates to be aflfeetionately remembered
always, where they have the open door and pretty show of plants within, and
where the child with laughing eyes is peeping out of window at the little dog
below. You wonder what may be the use of this tall flagstaff in. the by-street,
with something like Liberty's head-dress on its top : so do I. But there is a
passion for tall flagstaffs hereabout, and you may see its twin brother in five
aninutes, if you have a mind.

Again across Broadway, and so — passing from the many-coloured crowd and
glittering shops — into another long main street, the Boweiy. A railroad yond«r,
see, where two stout horses trot along, drawing a score or two of people and a
great wooden ark, with ease. The stores are poorer here ; the passengers less
gay. Clothes ready-made, and meat ready-cooked, are to be bought in these
parts ; and the lively whiil of carriages is exchanged for the deep rumble of carts

\

i:be Tombs,

49

and waggons. These signs which are so plentiful, in shape like river buoys, or
small balloons, hoisted by cords to i)oles, and dangling there, announce, as you
may see by looking uj), •• Oysiers in kvkry Stylic." They tempt the hungry
most at night, for then dull candles glimmering inside, illuminate these dainty
words, and make the mouths of idlers water, as they read and linger.

What is this dismal-frontctl pile of bastard Egyptian, like an enchanter's palace
in a melodrama ! — a famous prison, called The Tombs. Shall we go in ?

So. A long narrow lofty building, stove-heated as usual, with four galleries,
one above the other, going round it, and comn^Amicaling by stairs. iJetween the
two sides of each gallery, and in its centre, a bridge, for the gieater convenience
of crossing. On each of these bridges sits a man : do/ing or reading, or talking
to an idle companion. On each tier, are two opnosite rows of small iron doors.
They look like furnace-doors, but arc cold anil black, as though, the lircs within had
all gone out. Some two or three are open, and women, with drooping heads bent
down, are talking to the inmates. The whole is lighted by a skylight, but it is flast
closeii ; and from the roof there dangle, limp and drooi)ing, two useless windsails.

A man with keys appears, to show us round. A good-looking fellow, and, in
Jiis way, civil and obliging.

*' Are those black doors the cells .■• "

"Yes."

" Are they all full ? "

" Well, they're pretty nigh full, and that's a fact, and no two ways about it."

"Those at the bottom are unwholesome, surely ?"

" Why, we do only put coloured people in 'em. That's the truth."

*' When do the prisoners take exercise ?" •

" Well, they do without it pretty much." . ,

** Do they never walk in the yard .^"

" Considerable seldom."

" Sometimes, I suppose ?" , ,

'* Well, it's rare they do. They keep pretty bright without it."

*' But suppose a man were here for a twelvemonth. I know this is only a prison
for criminals who are charged with grave ofTences, while they are awaiting their
trial, or under remand, but the law here, afTords criminals many means of delay.
What with motions for nc ./ trials, and in arrest of judgment, and what not, a
prisoner might be here for twelve months, I take it, might he not ? "

" Well, I guess he might."

** Do you mean to say that in all that time he would never come out at that
little iron door, for exercise .'' "

" He might walk some, perhaps— not much."

*' Will you open one of the doors ? "

"All, if you like." "^ •

The fastenings jar and rattle, and one of the doors turns slowly on its hinges.
Let us look in. A small bare cell, into which the light enters through a high
chink in the wall. There is a rude means of washing, a table, and a bedstead.
Upon the latter, sits a man of sixty ; reading. He looks up for a moment ; gives
an impatient dogged shake ; and fixes his eyes upon his book again. As we
withdrew our heads, the door closes on him, and is fastened as before. This man
Jias murdered his wife, and will probably be hanged.
♦ " How long has he been here ?"

"A month."'

" When will he be tried ? "

"Next term."

'* When is that ? " '

E

^ii

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,.i,:tL 2i

vv

ih'

■rm

m

^.:;j

:' ft

i''^

f fb

so

Jmeriain Notes.

"Next month."

" In Englaml, if a man be under sentence of death, even he has a'r and exci-
ri«e at certain ])criods of the day."

"Possible?"

With vliat stupendous and untranslatable coolness he says this, and how loun^-
ingly he leads on to the women's side : makinj;, as he j^oes, a kind of iron
Castanet of the key and the stair-rail !

Each cell door on this sitlc has a scjuare aperture in it. Some of the women
peep anxiously throuj^h it at the sound of footsteps ; otheis shrink away in
shame. — For what offence can that lonely child, of ten or twelve years old, be
shut up here ? Oh ! that boy ? He is the son of the prisoner we saw just now ;
is a witness a.c[ainst his father ; and is detained here for safe keeping', until the
trial ; that's all.

But it is a dreadful place for the
This is rather haril treatment for a
conductor ?

'• Well, it an't a very rowily life, and thaVs a fact ! "

Aj^ain he clinks his metal castanet, and leads us leisurely away. I have a ques-
tion to ask him as we fjo.

" Pray, why do they call this place The Tombs .^"

" Well, it's the cant name."

"I know it is. Why.?''

" Some suicides happened here, when it was first built. I expect it come about
from that."

"I saw just noAv, that that man's clothes were scattered about the floor of his
cell. Don't you oblige the prisoners to be orderly, and put such things away "i "

" Where should they put 'cm .?"

child to pass the long days and nights in.
young witness, is it not ? — What says our

" Not on the ground surely. What do yon say to hanging them up ?"

He stops and looks round to em|)hasise iiis answer :

"Why, I say that's just it. When they had hooks \\\Q.y would hang them-
selves, so they're taken out of evciy cell, and there's only the marks left where
they used to be !"

The prison-yard in which he pauses now, lias been the scene of tenible per-
formances. Into this narrow, grave-like place, men arc brought out to die. The
wretched creature stands beneath the gibbet on the ground ; the rope about his
neck ; and when the sign is given, a weight at its other end comes running down,
and swings him up into the air — a corpse.

The law requires that there be present at this dismal spectacle, the judge, the
jury, and citizens to the amount of twenty-live. From the community it is hidden.
To the dissolute and bad, the thing remains a frightful mystery. Between the
criminal and them, the prison-wall is interposed as a thick gloomy veil. It is the
curtain to his bed of death, his winding-sheet, and grave. From him it shuts out
life, and all the motives to unrepcnting hardihood in that last hour, which its mere
sight and presence is often all-sullicient to sustain. There are no bold eyes to
make him bold ; no ruffians to uphold a ruffian's name before. All beyond the
pitiless stone wall, is unknown space.

Let us go forth again into the cheerful streets.

Once more in Broadway ! Here are the same ladies in bright colours, walking
to and fro, in pairs and singly ; yonder the very same light blue parasol which
passed and repassed the hotel-window twenty times while we were sitting there.
We are going to cross here. Take care of the pigs. Two portly sows are trot-
ting up behind this carriage, and a select party of half-a-dozen gentlemen hogs
have just now turned the coiner. ,,

^

Pigs.

5»

'"r and oxci-

come about

lanjT them-

Ilcrc JH a solitary swine lounging homcwarcl Iiy himself. He has only one ear ;
having parted with the other to vagrant-dogs in the course of his city rambles,
liut he gets on very well without it ; and leads a roving, gentlemanly, vagabond
kind of life, somewhat answering to that of our dub-men at home. Ife leaves
his lodgings every morning at a certain hour, throws himself upon the town, gets
througli his day in some manner quite satisfactory to himself, and rcgulaily
appears at the door of his own house again at night, like the mysterious master of
(ill Jilas. He is a free-and-easy, careless, indillerent kind of pig, having a very
large acquaintance among other pigs of the same character, wlmm he rather
knows by sight than conversation, as he seldom troubles himself to stop and
exchange civilities, l)ut goes grunting down the kennel, turning up tlie news and
small-talk of the city in the shape of cabbage-stalks and oflal, and bearing no
tails but his own : which is a very short one, lor his old enemies, the dogs, have
been at that too, and have left him hardly enough to swear by. He is in every
resj)ect a republican pig, going wherever he [leases, and mingling with the best
society, on an equal, if not superior footing, for every one makes way when he
apjK'ars, and the haughtiest give him the wall, if he prefer it. JIc is a great
])hiIosopher, and seldom moved, unless by the dogs bef"ore mertioned. Some-
times, indeed, you may see his small eye twinkling on a slaughtered friend, whose
carcase garnishes a butcher's door-post, but he grunts out " Such is life : all flesh
is pork ! " buries his nose in the mire again, anil waddles down the gutter : com-
forting himself with the reflection that there is one snout the less to anticipate
stray cabbage-stalks, at any rate. ^

They are the city scavengers, these pigs. Ugly brutes they arc ; having, for the
most part, scanty l)rown backs, like the lids of okl horsehair trunks : spotted with
unwholesome black blotches. They have long, gaunt legs, too, and such peaked
snouts, that if one of them could be persuaded to sit for liis profile, nobody would
recognise it for a pig's likeness. They are never attended upon, or fed, or d"iven,
or caught, but are thrown upon their own resources in early life, and become preter-
naturally knowing in consequence. Eveiy pig knows where he lives, much better
than anybody could tell him. At this hour, just as evening is closing in, you M'ill
see them roaming towards bed by scores, eating their way to the last. Occasion-
ally, some youth among them who has over-eaten himself, or has been worried by
dogs, trots shrinkingly homeward, like a prodigal son : but this is a rare case :
perfect self-possession and self-reliance, and immovable composure, being their
foremost attributes. ^

The streets and shops are lighted now ; and as the ej'c travels down the long
thoroughfare, dotted with bright jets of igas, it is reminded of Oxford Street, or
Piccadilly. Here and there a flight of brord stone cellar-steps appears, and a
painted lamp directs yon to the i3owling Saloon, or Ten-Pin alley ; Ten-Pins
being a game of mingled chance and skill, invented when the legislature passed
an act forbidding Nine-Pins. At other downward flights of steps, arc other
lamps, marking the whereabouts of oyster-cellars — pleasant retreats, say I : not
only by reason of their wonderful cookery of oysters, pretty nigh as large as
cheese-plates (or for thy dear sake, heartiest of Greek Professors !), but because of
all kinds of eaters of fish, or flesh, or fowl, in these latitudes, the swallowers of
oysters alone are not gregarious ; but subduing themselves, as it were, to the
nature of what they work in, and copying the coyness of the thing they eat, do
sit apart in curtained boxes, and consort by twos, not by two hundreds.

But how quiet the streets are ! Are there no itinerant bands ; no wind or
stringed instruments .? No, not one. By day, are there no Punches, Fantoccini,
Dancing-dogs, Jugglers, Conjurors, Orchestrinas, or even Barrel-organs ? No,
not one. Yes, I remember one. One barrel-organ and a dancing-monkey —

*r\

h

5«

jimerimn Notes,

sportive l)y iintinc, h\\{ fast fi»»liiif» into a dull, hiiupish luonUoy, of the Utililaiiaii
school. Heyoml that, nolhitij; lively ; no, not so much as a while mouse in a
Iwiiliu}; cajjc.

Arc thcic no anuisemeiits ? Yes. Jhcic is a Ku turo-rootn across the way.
Iroin which that f,'laro of \\^\\i proceeds, and there may he eveninj^ service for the
ladies thrice a week, or ol\cner. l"'or the younj; ^enllttncn, Iheie is the counlinj^-
ho\ise, the store, the har-ioom : the lattei, as v<»u may see throuj^h these windows,
pretty lull. Hark ! to the clinkinj; soun«l of hammets hieakiiij^ lumps of ice, and
to the cool };urj^lin^ of the po\>nded bits, as, it\ the process of mixing, they are
p(Mueil trom ^lass to plass ! No amusetncnts ? What ate these suckers ol
cigars and swallowers of stron)^ drit\ks, whose hats and leirs wc sec in every
pitssihlo variety of twist, doinjj, hut amusing themselves? What arc the iifly
newspai>ei-s. which those precocioiis urchins are hawlinj; down the street, and
whicli are kept tiled within, what are they hut amusements ? Not vapid waterish
nmu'-ements, hut i;ood stron^^ stulV; dealinj; in ro\md abuse and bIack;,Miard
names ; pidliujjotV the iY>ofs of private hoiiscs, as the Halt.njj Devil did in .Spain ;

IMmpiuj; and pandering for all degrees of vici»)us taste, and gorg" ^g with coined
ics the most voraci(nis maw ; imputing to evciy n\ati in public lile the coarsest
nnd the vilest motives; scaring away ficnn the stabbed and pjostrate body-politic,
cvciy Samaritan of clear conscience and good deeds; and setting tm, with yell
and whistle an.l the clapping of foul hamls, the vilest vermin and wi)rst bitds of
pre^. — No anniscments !

Let m go on again ; and massing this wilderness of an hotel with stores about
its base, like some Continental theatie, or the London (^pera House shorn of its
colonnade, plunge into the I'ive Toints. Hut it is needlul. fust, that we take as
our csccnt these two heads of the police, whom you wcniKl know for sharp and
well-trained ofVicet^ if you met them in the (Ireat Desert. So tmc it is, that cer-
tain pm-suits, wherever carried on, will stamp men with the satnc character.
These two might have been begotten, born, and bred, in Bow Street.

AVc have seen no beggars in the streets by night or day ; but of other kinds of
strollers, iilenty. Povctty, wretchedness, and vice, arc rife enough where wc are
going now.

This is the ]>laoc: these nanow wavs, diverging to the right and left, and reeking
everywhere with dirt and tilth. Sudi lives as arc led here, bear the same fruits
here as elsewhere. The coai-se ajid bloated faces at the doors, h.avc counterparts
at homo, and all the wide worUl over. Debauchery has made the very houses
prematureh' old. See how the roiten beams are tumbling down, and how the
patched and broken windows seem to scowl ilindy, like eyes that have been hurt
in dnniken fiays. Many of those pigs live here. Do they ever wonder why their
masters walk upright in lieu of going on all-fours ? and why tirey talk instead of
grnnting .'*

So far, nearly cveiy house is a low tavern ; and on the bar-room walls, arc
coloured prints of W.ishington, and Queen Victoria of England, and the American
Eagle. Among the pigeon-holes that hold the bottles, are pieces of plate-glass
and coloured paper, for there is, in some sort, a taste for decoration, even here.
And as seamen iVequent these haunts, there are maritime pictures by the dozen :
of partings between sailoi"S and their lady-loves, portraits of William, of the ballad,
and his Black-Eyed Susan ; of Will Watch, the Bold Smuggler ; of Paul Jones
the Pirate, and the like : on which the painted eyes of Queen "^'ictoria, and of
Washington to boot, rest in as strange companionship, as on most of the scenes
that are enacted in their wondering presence. »

What place is this, io which the squalid street conducts us } A kind of square
of leprous houses, some of which are attainable only by crazy wooden staii-s with-

it

n

Thf Five Points.

53

nut. Wli.U lies licyond this toltorin^' (li^Iit of steps, that creak beneath fMir tread ?
-a niisernble room, li(,'litc»l by one <lini candle, and destitute of all jondbri, save
that which may be hidcU'n in a wretched bed. Meside it, sits a n»an : his rll)ows
nil Ids luieesi'his lorchcad hidden in his hands. " What ails that man i'" aslts
the foieniost olhcer. " l-ever," he sullenly replies, without looking,' up. Conceive
the ("antics of a levered biaiti, in such a place as this !

Ascend these pitch-daik stairs, hee(llul of a lalse f()f)tinj; «)n (he (rcnddinj;/
l)(tards, and fjrnpc your way with me inlf) this wollish t\vn, where neither ray of
li),dit nor l)reath ol air, appears to come. A nej^Mo lad. startled bom his sleep by
the ollicer's voice he knows it well -but (omhtrled by his assuran(c that he ha«
not come on business, ndiciously bestirs himscll to li^,dit a (andh*. The malcli
llickeis for a moment, and shows ^teat niotmds of dusky raj,'s upon the ground;
tiien dies away and leaves a denser daikness than before, if there can be drj^Mees
ill such extiemcs. Me stinnbles down the stairs and presently conies back, shading
a daring' tajier with his hand. Then the mounds of ra^s are seen to be astir, ai.ii
rise slowly up, and the floor is covered with heaps of ne^ro women, waking from
dieir sleep: their white teeth chattering, and their biij,dil eyes j^listeninjj and
winkiuL' on all s'des with surprise- and fear, like the countless repetition of one
,r-.tonislu'd Ahican face in some stran^'c mirror.

Mount up these other stairs with no less caution (there are traps and pitfalls
here, for those who arc not so well escorted as ourselves) into the housetop ; where
tile bare beams and rafters meet overhead, and calm nij^lil looks down throuj^h the
crevices in the roof. Open the door of one of these cramped hutches full of sleepinjj
ncf^roes. Tah ! They have a charcoal hre within ; there is a smell of iijij^ciiiij
( lolhes, or flesh, so dose they gather roimd the bra/icr ; and vapours issue forth
that blind and suflbcatc. From every corner, as you j^lancc about you in these
dark retreats, some limuc eiawls half-awakencti, as d the jud^'mentdiour were near
at hanil, and every obscene [^ravc were ^ivinf^j up its dead. Where do^s would
howl to lie, women, and men, and boys slink off to slcej), forcing the dislodged rats
to move away in quest of better lodgings.

Here too arc lanes and alleys, paved with mud kncc-decp, underground
chambers, where they dance and game; the walls bedecked with rough designs of
siiips, and forts, and flags, and American eagles out of number : ruined houses,
open to the street, whence, through wide ga))s in the walls, other ruins loom upon
the eye, as though the world of vice and misery had nothing else to show : hideous
tenements whicli take their name from robbery and murder : all that is loathsome,
drooping, and decayed is here. ^

Our leader has his hand upon the latch of ♦* Al mack's," and calls to us from the
bottom of the steps ; for the assembly-room of the Five Point fashionables ia
approached by a descent. Shall we go in ? It is but a moment.

Meyday ! the landlady of Almack's thrives ! A buxom fat mulatto woman, with
sparkling eyes, whose head is daintily ornamented with a handkerchief of many
colours. Nor is the landlord much behint' her in hi^ finery, being attired in a smart
blue jacket, like a ship's steward, with a thick gold ring upon his little finger, and
round his neck a gleaming golden watch-guard. How glad he is to see us ! What
will wc please to call for 'i, A dance } It shall be done directly, sir : "a regular
break-down."

The corpulent black fiddler, and his friend who plays the tambourine, strmp
upon the boarding of the small raised orchestra in which they sit, and play a hvcly
measure. Five or six couple come upon the floor, marshalled by a lively young
negro, who is the wit of the assembly, and the greatest dancer known. He nc^er
leaves ofl" making queer faces, dnd is the delight of all the rest, who grin from
ea. to ear incessantly. Among the dancers are two young mulatto girls, with

r.

I .

54

Am

trinin

N'j^es,

larjjc, Maik, thopiiiK oycs, ami hcsul-jjoar jftcr the fuslion of the ho!«teH8,

who arc us shvi or itij^n to be, as ihoiirh (he) never ilanecu hclore, and so look
down belorc the vibilois, that thcii paruicrs can see nolhin;* but the loiij,' Irin^'ed
laiihe-^

hnl {\w ilancc coiuncnces, Eveiy j,'entlenian sols as lonj; as he likes to the
opposite lady, and the ojiposito laily ' ) him, ami ;il are so lonj^ about it that Ihi-
sport l)cj,Mns tt> !.inj,niish, when suiUfenly the I'\ely heio dashes in to tlie reseui'.
histanlly the luidlei f,'vins, .uul ;;i)es ;it it looUi and nail ; then" is new energy in
the tandn)uiine ; new l.iuj;liter ni llie d;ineers ; new smiles in the landhuly ; new
eonlidenie in llie lantlh)iil ; new ])ri;,'hlness in the veiy eaiulle-;. Sinj^le shnllle,
doul)le shuOie, cnl .md iross-eul ; sn.ippin;.,' his (inlets, loliinj,' his eyes, turninj,' in
his knee-, i)reseiUinj,' the baeks ot h.s lej;s in lionl, spinnin^^ about on his toes and
he-'Is like nothing bat the nian' linj^ers on the tambourine ; dancinj^ with two leli
ley;s, two rij;h( ie{,'s, two wooden h'^s, two wire lej:s, two sprinj^ le^'s — all sorts ol
le^s r'ul wo left's — what is tiiis (o him .' And in what walk ol liie, oi ilanee of life,
docs mai. ever ^jet such stinndating ai>plausc as thunder.' about him, when, havinj^
danceil his partner oil her Icet, and hinisell too, he hnishes by leaping,' ^'ioriously
on the bar-coun'e)-, auv! callinj^ for sonielhinj; to o:ink, with the chuckle c>l a milhon
of counlerleii Jnii Ciows, in one inimitable soimd !

The air, even m tiiese distempered |iar'.s, is fr-.sh after the stitlini,' atmosphere of
the house. , and now, as we enn'r^'e into a laoader street, il bhnvs iijion us with a
purcj breath, and the stars look brij^ht apain. Here are The 'J'ond)s once more.
The city v ateh-house is a part of the buiuling. It follows naturally on the sij^htS
we iiav^ust left. Let us see that, an 1 then to bed.

Whal! do you thiust your eonnnori otVendcrs against the police diseijdinc of the
town, inlo ^aJch hole> as ihese ? Do men and women, against whom no crime is
proved, lie :\erc all w'v^hi in peiicet d.ukncss, sunoumled l)y the noi.-.ome vapours
which encirciC (hat ih^ff^i'i^ lamp you li^dit us with, and breathinj^ this lilthy and
oflensiNC stench ! Why, such indecent and disgustinj,' dunj^eons as these cells,
would briiij^ disj^nace lU^on the most despotic empire in the world ! Look at them,
man — you, who sec them every night, and keeji die keys. Do you see what they
arc ? Do you know low drains are made belcnv the streets, and wherein these
human sewers iliiVer, except in beinj; always st..^nant .-^

Well, he don't iau)w. He has had five-and-twenty younj^ women IocIcmI up in
this very cell at one time, and youM hardly realise what handsome faces there
were among 'em.

In God's name ! shut the door ujion the wretched creature who is in it now, and
put its screcii before a place, quite unsurpassed in all the vice, neglect, and
deviliy, of the w orst old town in Europe.

Are people really left all night, untried, in those black sties?— Every night.
The watch is set at seven in the evening. The magistrate opens his court at five
in the morning. That is the earliest hour at which the first prisoner can be
released : and if an ofiicer appear against him, he is not taken out till nine o'clock
or ten. — But if any one among thcnr die in the interval, as one man did, not long
ago ? Then he is half-eaten by the rats in an hour's time ; as that man was ; and
there an end.

What is this intolerable tolling of great bclis, and crashing of wheels, ami
shouting in the distance } A tire. And what that deep red light in the opposite
direction ? Another tiie. And what these ciiarrcd and blackened walls we stand
before ? A dwelling where a fne has been. It was more tlian hinted, in an official
report, not long ago, that some ol these conflagrations were not wholly accidental,
and that speculation and entciprise found a held of exertion, even in flames ; but
be this as it may, there wa-; a tire last night, there are two to-night, and you may

Amtber Public Institution.

SS

lay an even >VM^'cr there will he at least one, to-morrow. So, lairyiiiJLj that with u*
for our comfort, let us say, (iootl ni^hl, and climb uj)-.stairs to bed.

One day, (hiring n>y stay in New York, 1 paid .i visit tu the difTercnt public
iii^litntioii^ on Loix,' Isl.iinl, or Rhode Island; I ror|;ct whi'h. One of thom is a
I.unalic Asylum. The buihlin;^ is liancNome ; und is temarkable for a spacious
and eU*j,'ant stainaso. The whole structure is not yet limshcd, !iul it h aluudy one
of considi'table size antl extent, and is c.ipable of atcotninodatinj^ a veiy large
number of |)atienls.

I camiot say that I derived much comfort from the inspection of this charity,
riie dillerent wards mij.;lit have been cleaner and bettor ordered : I saw nothing
of that salutary system whic h had impressed lue so faviMuably elsewhere ; ami
everything' hail :i lounj^in;^', bslless, niadhouse air, wliich was very painful. The
mo|)in}4 idiot, cowering d(»wn with long dishevelled hair; the gibbering maniaCf
willi his hideous l.iugh and pointed fmger ; the vacant eye, the lierce wild face,
the gloomy picking of the hands and li|)s, and mtmching of the nails: there they
were all, without disguise, in naked ugliness and horror. In Uie dining-room, a
bare, dull, dreary pl.ice, with nothing for the eye to rest on but tlic empty walls,

If

pi.u
;ked

a woman was iocked up alone. She was bent, they ttdd me, on eommitting
suicide. If anything couKl have stienglhencd her in her resolution, it would
certainly have been the insu|)|ioi table monotony of such an existence.

The terrible crowd with which these halls and galleries were filled, so shocked
me, that I abridged my stay within the shortest limits, and declined to- see that
portion of the building in which the refractory and violent were under closer
restraint. 1 have no doubt that the gentleman who j)resided over this establish-
ment at the time I write of, was competent to manrge it, and had done all in his
jiower to promote its usefulness : but will it be believed that the miserable strife
of I'arty feeling is carried even into this sad refuge of afflicted and degraded
hmnanity ? Will it be believed that the eyes which arc to watch over and control
the wanderings of minds on which the most dreadful visitation to wliich our
nature is exposed has fallen, must wear the glasses of some wretched side in
Politics ? Will it be believed that the governor of such a house as this, is
appointed, and deposed, and changed jierpetually, as J*arties fluctuate and vary,
and as their desi)icable weathercocks are blown this way or that ? A hundred
times in ev«ry week, some new most paltiy exhibition of that narrow-minded and
injurious Party Spirit, which is the Simoom of America, sickening and blighting
eveiything of wholesome life within its reach, was forced upon my notice; but I
never turned my back upon it with feelings of such vleep disgust and measureless
contempt, as when I crossed the threshold of this madhouse.

At a short distance from this building is another called the Alms House, that is
tc ly, the workhouse of New York. This is a large Institution also : lodging, I
be eve, when I was there, nearly a thousand poor. It was batlly ventilated, and
^~ ly lighted ; was not too clean ; and impressed me, on the whole, very uucom-

■ tably. But it must be remembp- ed that New York, as a great emporium ol (
cc mierce, and as a place "^f general resort, not only from all parts of the States, j
but from most parts of the world, has always a large pauper population to provide ,
for ; and labours, therefore, under peculiar difficulties in this respect. Nor must
it be forgotten that New York is a large town, and that in all large towiiS a vast
amount of good and evil is intermixed and jumbled up together.

In the same neighbourhood is the Farm, where young orphans are nursed and
bred. I did not see it, but I believe it is well conducted ; and I can the more
easily credit it, from knowing how mindful they usually are, in America, of that

*ll.

%

ii -I'

5^

JmrricaH Notes*

beautiful pnsMRe fn tlic T.itany whith rcnuinhcis all :iicU persons nnti youn^;
chililteii.

I was talicii to those Institutions by water, in a boat bclon^jiuj» to tlio Islaiul
Jail, atiil !<>\ve<l by a new of piisoujis, ^ho wete tliessed iii a stiipi*! UMi(oiin ol
l>laek and bull", in wliieh they lookeii like railed liycis. They look me, by the
satne eonveyance, to the Jail itself.

It is an j)l«l ptisoti, and quite a pioneer establishment, oti the plan T liaye
aheaily desetibe«l. I was f^lad to he.u this, lor il is uiKpieslionably a very indillerent
one. The most is made, luiwever, of the means il pi)ssesses, and il is as well
rejjnlaled as sueh a plaec ean bo.

The women W(^lk in eovered sheds, elected lor thnt purpose. If T remetubei
lij^hl, theie are no shops lor the men, but be that as it may, the j,Meater part ol
them labour in certain stone-(juarries near al hand. J he day bein}» very wet
indeed, this labour was suspended, and the piisoneis were it\ iheit i ells. Imagine
tho^e cells, some two or three lumdred in number, and in eveiy one a man lockeil
\ip ; Ihis one ai liis door for air, with his hands thrust Ihiouj^h the folate ; this one
in bo<l (in the midijle of the day, remember) ; and this one llunj,' down in a heap
upon the }^round,wilh his head aj^ainst the bajs, like a wild [)easl. Make the rain
pour ilown, outside, in torrents. I'ut the everlaslinj; stov(« in the midst ; hot, and
sutl'ocatinj^, antl vaporous, as a witch's cauldron. Add a collection of gentle
odouis, such as would arise from a thousand nuldewed umbrellas, wet throuj^h,
an^l a thousand buck-baskets, full of hall-washed linen— and iheie is Ihe prison,
as it was that day.

The prison tor the Stale r.t Sinp Sin^, is, on Ihc other hand, a model jail.
That, an<l Auburn, are, 1 believe, Iho largest and bcsl examples of the silent
system.

In another \^^.\{ of ihc city, is Iho Refufjc for the Destilule : an Insliltilion
whoso object is to reclaim youthful olVenders, male and female, black and white,
without (iislinction ; to leach them useful trades, apprentice them to resjicctable
masters, and make them worthy membei's of society. Us design, it will be seen,
is similar to that at Boston ; audit is a no less moriloi ions ami admirable establish-
ment. A suspicion crossed my mind during my inspection of this noble charity,
whether the superintendent had (piite sutlicienl knowledge of the world and
worUlly characters ; and whether ho ilid not commit a great mistake in treating
some young girls, who were t(^ all intents and purposes, by their years and their
past lives, wonv^n, as though they were little children ; wliich certainly had a
nidicious oiTect in n:y eyes, and, or I am nuich mistaken, in theirs also. As the
Institution, however is always under the vigilant examination of a boily of gentle-
men of great intelliccnce and experience, it cannot fail to be well conducted ; and
whether I am right or wrong in this slight particular, is unimportant to its deserts
and character, which it would be diflicult to estimate too highly.

In addition to those establishments, there are in Now York, excellent hospitals
and schools, literarf institutions and libraries ; an admirable lire department (as
indeed it should be, having constant practice), and charities of every sort and
kind. In the suburbs there is a spacious cemetery ; unlinishod yet, but every day
improving. The saddest tomb I saw there was " The Strangers' Grave. Dedi-
cated to the dirtorent hotels in this city."

There arc three principal theatres. Two of them, the Park and the Bowery,
.nre largo, elegant, and h.indsome buildings, and arc, I grieve to write it, generally
deserted. The third, the Olympic, is a tiny show-box for vaudevilles and bur-
lesques. It is singularly well conducted by Mr. Mitchell, a comic actor of great
quiet humour and originality, who is well remembered and esteemed by London
playgoers. I am happy to report of this deserving gentleman, that his benches

m^-

•li" Man.l
unifornj ol
•"f, hy (In.

>Iim T Iiavr
V iiulincirni
i'* as wtll

iinicmhoi
'I'l p.iK of
K very wcj

Ima^'inc
Mil l(iel(0(l

Jliis one
' in a heap
'<e (lie rain
; l»«(, and
I of gentle
t (hroiij^'h,
Iio j)ri.son,

nodel jai?.
the sileiU

Institution
wkI white,
cspcctahle
I l)c seen,
' cstablish-
le chanty,
vorld and
1 treating,*
and their
ily Jiad a
As the
afgcntlc-
ted; and
ts deserts

hospitals
mcnt (as
sort and
very day
. Dedi-

Bowery,
[encrally
nd bur-
of great
London
benches

On the IVing /tgain.

$7

arr usually well filled, and that his theatre rin^s with merriment every ni^'ht. I
h;i(l almost (orj,'otteii a stnall summer theatre, calk*! Nililn's, with j^ardeus and
open air amusements attached ; but I believe it is not exempt from the f^meral
depression under which Theatiical Property, or what is huujorously called by that
name, unfortunately labours.

The country round New Yorit, is surpassin^dy an<l cx(|uisitely picturcKque. The
(limale, as I have already intimated, is somewhat of the warmest. What it would
be, without the sea brt'c/es which come from its beaulifid May in theevcninj^' time,
I will not throw myself or my ri-aders into a fever by in(niirin}(.

The lone of the best so<itty in this ( ity, is like that ol Hoston ; here and there,
it may be, with a meater infusion of the mercantile spiiit, but j^enerally polished
and relined, and always most hospitable. 'Jhe houses and tables are ele^'atil ; the

hours later and more rakish ; and there is, perhaps, a greater spirit of contention
in reference to npj)earances, and the display of wealth and costly living;. Ihe
ladies are sin^idarly beautiful.

Hefore I left New Yoik I made arranj^'emenls for securinfj a passage home in
the ticorf^'c Washinj^'loii iiacket ship, which w.is advertised to sail in June: that
bciu}^' the month in whi( h I had determined, if j)revented by no accident in the
course of my ramblin^s, to leave America,

I never thou},dit that ^'oinj,' back to Knj^dand, returning to all who are dear to
me, and to ptirsuits that have insensibly ^rown to be a part of my nature, I could
have felt so much sorrow as I endured, when I parted at last, on board this ship,
with the friends who had accompanied me from this city, I never thought the
name of any t)lace, so far away and so lately known, could ever associate itself in
my mind with the crowd of affectionate remembrances that now cluster about it,
'Ihcre are those in this city who would bri^diten, to me, the darkest winter-day
that ever jjlimmered and went out in I.a|)land ; and before whose presence even
Home f^rew dim, when they and I exchanged that painful word which nunglcs
with our every thouj,dit and tleed ; which haunts our cradk'-hcads in infancy, and
closes uj) the vista of our lives in ape.

CHAPTER VII.

PHlLAnELPIIIA, AND ITS SOLITARY PRISON.

The jounicy from New York to Philadelphia, is made by railroad, and two
ferries ; and usually occupies between five and six hours. It was a fine eveninjj
when we were passengers in the train : and watching the bright sunset from a
little window near the door by which we sat, my attention was attracted to a re-
markable appearance issuing from the windows of the gentlemen's ear immediately
in front of us, which I supposed for some time was occasioned by a number of in-
dustrious persons inside, ripping open feather-beds, and giving the feathers to the
wind. At length it occurred to me that they were only spitting, which was indeed
the case ; though how any number of passengers which it was possible for that
car to contain, could have maintained such a playful and incessant shower of ex-
pectoration, I am still at a loss to understand : notwithstanding the experience in
all saMvatory phenomena which I afterwards acquired.

I made acquaintance, on this journey, with a mild and modest young quaker,
"who opened the discourse by informing me, in a grave whisper, that his grandfather
was the inventor of cold-drawn castor oil. I mention the circumstance here, think-

1

S8

American Notes,

.,. ...

ni-:

ing it probable that this is the first occasion on \\''hich the valuable medicine in
question was ever used as a conversational aperient.

\Vc reached the city, late that night. Looking out of my chamber-window,
before going to bed, I saw, on the oj)posite side of the way, a handsome building
of white marble, which had a mournful ghost-like aspect, dreaiy to behold. 1
attributed this to the sombre influence of the night, and on rising in the morning
looked out again, cx]iccting to sec its steps and portico thronged with groups of
j)eople passing in and out. The door was still tight shut, however ; the same cold
cheerless air prevailed ; and the building looked as if the marble statue of Don
Guzman could alone have any business to transact within its gloomy walls. I
hastened to inquire its name and purpose, and then my surprise vanished. It was
the Tomb of many fortunes ; the Great Catacomb of investment ; the memorable
United States Bank.

The stoppage of this bank, with all its niinous consequences, had cast (as I
w^as told on every side) a gloom on Philrdelphia, under the depressing efiect
of which it yet laboured. It certainly did seem rather dull and out of
spirits.

It is a handsome city, but distractingly regular. After walking about it for an
hour or two, I felt that I would have given the world for a crooked street. The
collar of my coat appeared to stifl'cn, and the brim of my hat to expand, beneath
its quakeiy influence. JMy hair shrunk into a sleek short crop, my hands folded
themselves upon my breast of their own calm accord, and thoughts of taking
lodgings in Mark Lane over against the ?Iarket Place, and of making a large
fortune by speculations in corn, came over vc involuntarily.

Philadelphia is most bountifully provided \\n\\\ fresh water, which is showered
and jerked about, and turned on, and poured off, eveiywhere. The Water.vorks,
which are on a height near the city, are no less ornamental than useful, being
tastefully laid out as a public garden, and kept in the best and neates? crder. The
river is dammed at this point, and forced by its own power into certain iiigli tanks
or reseiToirs, whence the whole city, to the top stories of the houses, is supplied at
a veiy trifling expense.

There are various public institutions. Among them a most excellent Hospital
— a.quaker establishment, but not sectarian in the great benefits it confers ; a
quiet, quaint old Library, named after Franklin ; a handsome Exchange and Post
Oflice ; and so forth. In connection with the quaker Hospital, there is a picture
by West, which is exhibited for the benefit of the funds of the institution. The
subject is, our Saviour healing the sick, and it is, perhaps, as favourable a speci-
men of the master as can be seen anywhere. WHiether this be high or low praise,
depends upon the reader's taste.

In the sam; room, there is a very characteristic and life-like portrait by Mr.
Sully, a distinguished American artist.

My stay in Philadelphia was very short, but what I saw of its society, I greatly
liked. Treating of its general characteristics, I should be disposed to say that it
is more provincial than Boston or New York, and that there is afloat in the fair
city, an assumption of taste and criticism, savouring rather of those genteel dis-
cussions upon the same themes, in connection with Shakspeare and the Musical
Glasses, of which we read in the Vicar of Wakefield. Near the city, is a most
splendid unfinished marble structure for the Girard College, founded by a deceased
gentleman of that name and of enormous wealth, which, if completed according to
the original design, will be perhaps the richest edifice of modem times. But the
bequest is involved in legal disputes, and pending them the work has stopped ; so
that like many other great undertakings in America, even this is rather going to be
done one of these days, than doing now.

du{
stri
and

)

medicine in

ber-window,
^"le building'
> behold. 1
the morniiij^r
tJi ^'roujxs of
le same cold
itue of Don
ly walJs. I
led. It ivas

memorable

•^i.cast (as I

>"g eflbct

"J out of

ut it for an
icet. The
cl, beneath
nds folded
of taking
>g a large

siiowered
iter,vorks,
fuJ, being
■del-. The i
i'"iiJi tanks
applied at

Hospital
onfers ; a
and Post
a picture
>n. The

a speci-
^y praise,

hy Mr.

■ grea(.ly
y that it
the fair :
eel dis- j
Musical
a most
^ceased
ding to
But the
ed; so
? tobe

Eastern Penitentiary,

59

i

great prison, called the Eastern Penitentiary : con-
the slate of Pennsylvania. The system here, is rigid,

In the outskirts, stands a
ducted on a plan peculiar to tht

strict, and hopeless sohtary confmement. I believe it, in its effects, to be cruel
and wrong.

In its intention, I am well convinced that it is kind, humane, and meant for
leforniation ; but I am persuaded that those who devised this system of Prison
Discipline, and those benevolent gentlemen who carry it into execution, do not
know what it is that they are doing. I believe that very few men are capable of
estimating the immense amount of torture and agony which this dreadful punish-
ment, prolonged for years, inflicts upon the sufferers ; and in guessing at it myself,
and in reasoning IVom what I have seen written upon their faces, and what to my
certain knowledge tliey feel within, I am only the more convinced that there is a
depth of terrible endurance in it which none but the sufferers themselves can
fathom, and which no man has a right to inflict upon his fellow-creature. I hold
this slow and daily tamjicring with tlie mysteries of the brain, to be immeasurably
worse than any torture of the botly : and because its ghastly signs and tokens are
not so palpable to the eye and sense of touch as scars upon the flesh ; because its
wounds are not upon the surface, and it extorts few cries that human ears can
hear ; therefore 1 the more denounce it, as a secret punishment which slumbering
iiumanity is not roused up to stay. I hesitated once, debating with myself,
\vhether, if I had the power of saying "Yes" or "No," I would allow it to be
tried in certain cases, where the terms of imprisonment were short ; but now, I
solemnly declare, that with no rewards or honours could I walk a happy man
beneath the open sky by day, or ''e me down upon my bed at night, with the con-
sciousness that one human creature, for any length of time, no matter what, lay
suflering this unknown punishment in his silent cell, and I the cause, or I consent-
ing to it in the least degree.

I was accompanied to this prison by two gentlemen officially connected with its
management, and passed the day in going from cell to cell, and tal ing with the
inmates. Eveiy facility was afforded me, that the utmost courtesy cuuld suggest.
Nothing was concealed or hidden from my view, and every piece of information
that I sought, was openly and frankly given. The perfect order of the building
cannot be praised too highly, and of the excellent motives of all who are imme-
diately concerned in the administration of the system, there can be no kind of
question.

Between the body of the prison and the outer wall, there is a spacious garden.
Entering it, by a wicket in the massive gate, we pursued the path before us to its
other termination, and passed into a large chamber, from which seven long pas-
sages radiate. On either side of each, is a long, long row of low cell doors, with
a certain number over every one. Above, a galleiy of cells like those below,
except that they have no narrow yard attached (as those in the ground tier have),
and are somewhat smaller. The possession of two of these, is supposed to com-
pensate for the absence of so much air and exercise as can be had in the dull
strip attached to each of the others, in an hour's time every day ; and therefore
ever)' prisoner in this upper story has two cells, adjoining and communicating
with, each other.

Standing at the central point, and looking down these dreary passages, the dull
repose and quiet that prevails, is awful. Occasionally, there is a drowsy sound
from some lone weaver's shuttle, or shoemaker's last, but it is stifled by the thick
walls and heavy dungeon-door, and only senes to make the general stillness more
profound. Over the head and face of eveiy prisoner who comes into this melan-
choly house, a black hood is drawn ; and in this dark shroud, an emblem of the
curtain dropped between him and the living world, he is led to the cell from which

M

f1

HI

6o

Jmencan Notes,

I ■';

f': f^

;r"J

he never again comes forth, until his whole term of imprisonment has cx])irc(I.
IJc never hears of wife an<l children ; home or friends ; the life or death of any
single creal are. He seen the prison-oHiccrs, but with that exception he nevet
looks upon a human countenance, or hears a human voice. He is a man buried
alive ; to he dug oiit in the slow round of years ; and it\ the mean time dead to
everything but torturing anxieties and horiible despair.

His name, and crime, and term of suilering, are unknown, even to the ofliccr
who delivers him his daily food. There is a number over his cell-door, and in a
book of which the governor of the prison has one copy, and the moral instruv toi
another : this is the index of his history. Beyonil these pages the prison has wo
record of his existence : and though he live to be in the same cell ten weary years,
he has no means of knowing, down to the very last hour, in what part of the
building it is situated ; what kind of men there are about him ; whether in the
long winter nights there arc living peoj)le near, or he is in some lonely corner of
the great jail, with walls, and passages, and iron doors between him and the
nearest sharer in its solitary horrors.

Isvery cell has tlouble doors : the outer one of sturdy oak, the other of grated
iron, wherein there is a trap through which his food is han !ed. lie has a Bible,
and a slate and pencil, and, under certain restrictions, has sometimes other books,
provided for the purpose, and pen and ink and paper. His razor, j)late, and can,
and basin, hang \\\^o\\ the wall, or shine \ipon tne little shelf. Fresh water is laiil
on in every cell, and he can draw it at his pleasure. During the day, his beil-
stead turns up again-t the wall, and leaves more space for him to work in. I lis
loom, or bench, or ,vhcel, is there ; and there he labours, sleeps and wakes, and
counts the seasons as they change, and grows old.

The fust man I saw, was seated at his loom, at work. Tie had been there, six
years, and was to rcnain, I think, three more. He had been convicted as a re-
ceiver of stolen goods, but even after his long imprisonment, denied his guilt,
and said he had been hartUy dealt by. It was his second oflence.

He stopped his work when we went in, took off his spectacles, and answered
freely to eveiything that was said to him, but always with a strange kind of pause
lirst, and in a low, thoughtful voice. He wore a paper hat of his own making,
and was pleased to have it noticed and commended. He had veiy ingeniously
manufactured a sort of Dutch clock from some disregarded odds and ends ; ami
his vinegar-bottle served for the pendulum. Seeing me interested in this con-
trivance, he hooked up at it with a great deal of pricle, ?.nd said that he had been
thinking of improving it, and that he hoped the h.ammer and a little piece of
broken glass beside it " would play music before long.' He had extracted some
colours from the yarn with which he worked, and painted a few poor figures on
the wall. One, of a female, over the door, he called "The Lady of the Lake."

He smiled as I looked at these contrivances to wile away the time ; but when I
looked from them to him, T saw that his lip trembled, and could have counted the
beating of his heart. I forget how it came about, but some allusion was made to
his having a wife. He shook his head at the word, turned aside, and covered his
face with his hands.

'• But you are resigned now* ! " said one of the gentlemen after a short pause,
during which he had resumed his former manner. lie answered with a sigh that
seemed quite reckless in its hopelessness, " Oh yes, oh yes ! I am resigned to it."
'* And are a better man, you think.?" "Well, I hope so; I'm sure I hope I
maybe." "And time goes pretty OiUickly.?" "Time is very long, gentlemen,
within these four walls ! "

He gazed about him — Heaven only kno\\'s how wearily ! — as he said these
woi uS ; and in the act of doing so, fell into a stiange staie as if he had forgotten

t

'iBiiiiiiiiii iimmiiii

'•as expired,
^'c.uh of any
ion he never

inan huiicd
t'nic (lead (o

'*^ tlic onicd

^or, and in ;,

•il i'lstriu tor

"■""'on has no

wany years,

I'art of the

'«-l'icr in the

ly corner of

"1 and tlic

'• of ^nated
las a Jiihic,
I'lcr booivs,
^> and ean,
^ater is laid
y, his bed-
k in. J lis
waives, and

1 there, six
<i as a re-
'»s guilt,

answered
^J of pause
1 making-,
igcniously
-»tls; and

this con-

Iiad been
' piece of
ted some
Sines on

Lake."
It when I
intcd the

made to
^'ered his

't pause,
igh tliat
^i to it."
hope I
itlenien,

d these
rgottcn

l^arious Prisoners,

6i

something. A moment afterwards he sighed heavily, put on his spectacles, and
went about his work again.

In another cell, there was a German, sentenced to five years' imprisonment for
larceny, two of which had just expired. With colours procured in the same
manner, he had painted every inch of the walls and ceiling (juite beautifully. He
had laid out the few feet of ground, behind, with ex(iuisitc neatness, and had
made a little bed in the centre, that looked by-the-byc like a grave. The taste
and ingenuity he had disi)layetl in everything were most extraordinary ; and yet a
more dejected, heart-broken, wretched creature, it would be diflicult to imagine.
I never saw such a picture of forlorn afllicti/jn and distress of mind. My heart
bled for him ; and when the tears ran down his cheeks, and he took one of the
visitors aside, to ask, Mith his trembling hands nei-vously clutching at his coat to
detain him, whether there was no hope of his dismal sentence being commuted,
the si)ectacle was really too painful to witness. 1 never saw or lieard of any
kind of misery that impressed me more than the wretchedness of this man.

In a third cell, was a tall strong black, a burglar, working at his proper trade
of making screws and the like. I lis time was nearly out. He was n(;t only a
very dexterous thief, but was notorious for his boklness and hardihood, and for
the number of his previous convictions. lie entertained us with a long account of
his achievements, which he narrated with such infmitc relish, that he actually
seemed to lickjiis lips as he told us racy anecdotes of stolen plate, and of old
ladies whom he had watched as they sat at windows in silver s))ectacles (he had
plainly had an eye to their metal even from the other side of the street) and had
afterwards robbed. This fellow, upon the slightest encouragement, would have
mingled with his professional recollections the most detestable cant ; but I am
very much mistaken if he could have surj)assed the unmitigated hypocrisy with
which he declared that he blessed the day on which he came into that prison, and
that he never would commit another robbery as long as he lived.

There was one man who was allowed, as an indulgence, to keep rabbits. His
room having rather a close smell in consefjuence, they called to him at the door
to come out into the passage. He complied of course, and stood shading his
haggard fiice in the unwonted sunlight of the great window, looking as wan and
unearthly as if he had been summoned from tlie gnve. He had a white rabbit
in his breast ; and when the little creature, getting down upon the ground, stole
back into the cell, and he, being dismissed, crept timidly after it, I thought it
would have been very hard to say in what respect the man was the nobler animal
of the two.

There was an English thief, who had been there but a few days out of seven
years : a villainous, low-browed, thin-lipped fellow, with a white face ; who had
as yet no relish for visitors, and who, but for the additional penalty, would have
gladly stabbed me with his shoemaker's knife. There was another German who
had entered the jail but yesterday, and who started from his bed when we looked
in, and pleaded, in his broken English, very hard for work. There was a poet,
who after doing two days' work in every four-and-twenty hours, one for himself
and one for the prison, wrote verses about ships (he was by trade a mariner), and
** the maddening wine-cup," and his friends at home. There were very many of
thean. Some reddened at the sight of visitors, and some turned very pale. Some
two or three had prisoner nurses with them, for they were vciy sick ; and one, a
fat old negro whose leg had been taken off within the jail, had for his attendant a
classical scholar and an accomplished surgeon, himself a prisoner likewise. Sit-
ting upon the stairs, engaged in some slight work, was a pretty coloured boy.
" Is there no refuge for young criminals in Philadelphia, then ? " said I. *' Yes,
but only for white children." Noble aristocracy in crime ! ' "- . '

'I

n«

F-v" ,

Iht

[ i

' ,1 ^>

ll-

: I.

K

%

1- »

62

y1mcric(tn Notes.

TIkmc was n sailor who had been there \ipwanls of rlrvcn years, and who in ;i
low months' iitno would he (Voc. l<'lcvcn \v.:\\s oT soUtiny conlinenicnt !

" I am very f^lad lo hear your time is nearly out." \\\y.\\. does he say ? No-
thin},'. Why does lie stare at his hands, and pick (he Ih-sh ii]Km his finder"-, and
raise Ids eyes for an instant, every now and then, to those l)are walls whieh have
seen his head turn j^rcy ? It is a way lie has sometimes.

Does he nevei- look men in the laee. and ilo(>s he always ]ihjek at tho^e hands
(d" his, as though he were bent on partin}^ skin and bone? it is his humoui :
nothinj; more.

Jt is his hnniom- too, to say that he dof^s not look- forward to f^'oin;:^ out ; that lie
is not j^lad the lime is drawim;; near ; that he did look forward to it onee, but thai
was very long ago ; that he has Ic/st all eare foi everything. It is his humour to
be a hel])les«i, erushcd, and broken man. And, Heaven be his witness that he
has his humoin- thoroughly gratilied !

There were three young women in adjoining etdls, all eonvieted ai the same
time of a eoiispiraey to rob their proseeiUor. In the silenee and solitude of their
lives they had grown to be quite beautiful. Their Io(d<s w(ae \ery sad, and might
have moveil the sternest visitor to tears, but not to that kind of soriow whicdi the
eontem|dation of the men awakens. One was a yoimg girl ; not twenty, as I
recollect; whose snow-white room was hmig with tlie work of some former
prisoner, and upon whose ilowneast fu'e the sun in all its splendour shone down
through the high chink in the wall, where one narrow strip of bright blue sky
was visible. Slie w,is very penitent and tpnel ; had come to be resigned, she saiil
(anil I believe her) ; and had a mind at peace. " In a word, you are happy here ? "
said one of mv companions. She struggled — she did struggle very hard — to
answer. Yes ; but raismg her eyes, and meetiiig that glimpse of freedom over-
head, she burst into tears, ami said, ." She tried to bi' ; she uttered no complaint ;
but it was natmal that slv^ ;-hould sometimes long to go out of that one cell : she
could not help that,'' she sobbed, poor thing !

I went from cell to cell that day; and every face T saw, or word T heard, or
incident t noted, is present to my mind in all its painfulness. Hut let me pass
then\ by, {'of one, more pleasant, glance of a jirison on the same plan which 1
afterwards saw at Pittsburg.

When I had gone over that, in the same manner, I asked the governor if he
had any person in his charge who was shortly going out. Tie hail one, he said,
whose lime was up next day ; but he had otdy been a prisoner two years.

Two yeai-s ! I looked back through two years of my own life — out of jail,
prosperous, happy, surrounde-l by blessings, comforts, good fortune — and thought
how wide a gap it was. and how long those two years jKissed in solitary ca[itivity
would have been. I have the face of this man. who was going to be released
next day, before me now. It is almost more memorable in its happiness than the
other faces in their miserv. How easv and how natural it Avas fo' him to say that
the system was a good one : and that the time went " prett\ quick — considering ; "
and that when a man once felt that he had oilended the law, and must satisfy it,
*'he got along, somehow: " and so forth !

'* What did he call you back to say to you, in that slran;:'e flutter?" I
asked of my conductor, when he had locked the door and joined me in the
passage.

" ()h 1 That he was afraid the soles of his boots were not fit for walking, as
ther were a ^^o<^(\ deal worn when he came in ; and that he would thank inc very
much to have them mended, ready."

Those boots had been taken oft" his feet, and put away with the rest of hh clothes,
two vcai-s before ! ' , , .

I

bef.l
"I
— aj
tot

ii'^l

iwtl

will

sto|l

Soil

ag;i|

wit

COlJ

disJ

11(1 w?if) in ,

Mf !

' ,«ny ? No-
> which h.iv,.

those h,'i?i()s
is hunioiM :

>iil ; that he

'"f. 1)1)1 ih.K

liiimoiir <()

t'ss that he

(k> of tl)(-ir

:iii(l nii/^rhl

whicli th(-

^•('nty. as I

MIC Ibinicr

i"no (lowji

' l>hie sky I

<!. siie said

I'y here ? "

liani— to

oni ovei--

'oniplaini ;

-cell; she

iicaiil, or
t me i)ass
1 which I

nor if he
. he said,

t of jail,
I tlunitrlit
captivity
released
than the
say that
[crin^ ; "
satisfy it,

:er?" I
■ in the

l<inr,r, as j
fne very '

Solitarj Confine me nt.

63

I '

T took that opportunity of incjuirin^ how they rondncted themselves immediately
before j^oinj; oiil ; adding,' that I presumed thi;y ireniijled very nuicli.

" Well, it's not so niucli a treinl)lin^'," was the ansv/cr — •' thonjd) tlicy do quiver
— ns a complete derangement o( the nervous system. They can't sipn their names
to the J)ook ; somelini("s can't even hold the p(,'n ; look al)f)ut 'em without appenr-
inj:j to know why, or where they an- ; and sometimes ^'ct up ;uul sit down a^'ain,
twenty times in a minute. This is when they're in the oflicc, where they arc taken
with the hood on, as they were hrou^dit iu. When they^et outside the ^ate, they
stop, and look lirst one way and then the other; not knowing which to tak( .
Sometimes they sta^'^er as il '.hey were ''nnik, anrl sometimes arc forced to lean
against the fence, they're so had . — but they clear off in course of ti ne."

As I walked amonj,' these solitary cells, and looked at the faces of the men
within them, 1 tried to picture to mysf-ll'the thouf^dits and feelinfjs natural to their
condition. 1 imaj,'ined the hood just taken oil, and the scone of their captivity
disclosed to them in all its dismal monotony.

At Inst, the man is sttnnied. His conlinemont is a hifleous vision; and his old
life a reality. Me throws himself upon his bed, and lies there abandoncl to despair.
Jiy decree:, the insupportable solitude and barrenness of the place rouses him iVom
this stupor, and when the trap in his {,'rated door is ojiened, he humbly bcj^'s and
piays for work. " (live me some work to 00, or 1 shall ^o ravinj^ mad !"

He has it ; and by fits and starts applies himself to labour ; but every now and
then there conies upon him a binning sense of the years that must be wastcfl in
that stone cotlin, and an aL,'ony so piercing in tin; recollection of those who are
hidden from his view and knowled{,'e, that he starts from his seat, and soidinj^ uj)
and down the narrow room with both hands clasj)ed on his uplifted hcud, hears
sj)iiils temptinj,' him to beat his brains out on the wall,

Aj,Min he falls nj)on liis l)cd, and lies there, moaninp. Suddenly he starts up,
wondcrinji; whether any other man is near; whether there is another cell like that
on either side of him : and listens keenly.

There is no sound, but other jirisont-rs may be near for all that. Jle rcmcml)ers
to have heard once, when he little thou{.,dit of cominj^ here himself, that the cells
were .0 constructed that the ])risoncrs could not hear each oth('r, thon^di the ofTicers
could iK-ir tlnnn. Where is the nearest man — upon the ri^lit, or on the left .'' or
is there Olio in both directions ? Where is he sitting now — with his face to- the
lij^lit .'* or is he walkiuj:^ to and fro ? How is he dressed .'' Has he been here
lon<^ ? Is he much worn away ? Ts he very white and spcctre-likc } Does he
think of his neij^dibour too ?

Scarcely venturing to breathe, and listening while he thinks, he conjures up a
fif^urc with his back .owards him, and imaj^dnes it movin^j about in this next cell.
\\xt has no idea of the face, but he is certain of the dark form of a stoopin^j man.
In the cell upon the other side, he puts another fij^nne, whose face is hidden from
him also. l)ay after day, and often when he wakes up in the middle of the
nir^lit, he thinks of these two men until he is almost distracted. He never chanfjcs
them. There they are always as he first imagined them — an old man on the ri^'ht;
a younger man upon the left — whose hidden features torture him to death, and
have a mysteiy that makes him treml)le.

The weaiy days pass on witli solemn pace, like mourners at a funeral; and
slowly he be<jins to feel that the white walls of the cell have sometljing dreadful
in them : that their colour is horrible : that their smooth surface chills his blood
that there is one hateful corner which torments him. F>eiy morning; when he
wakes, he hides his hearl beneath the coverlet, and shudders to see the j^hastly
ceiling looking down upon him. The blessed light of day itself peeps in, an ugly
hantom face, through the unchangeable crevice which is his prison window.

•iH

m

^^m$-

6+

American Notes.

'1 I

By slow but sure decrees, the tciTors of that liatcCul coruor swell iinlil Ihcybcscl
hin» at all times ; invaile his rest, make his dreams hideous, and his nights dread-
ful. At first, he tot)k a strani-jc dislike to it ; feclinj^ as though it gave nirth in his
brain to something of et)no«ponding shape, \vhicl» o\ight not to be there, and
raeked his head with pains. Then he began to feai it, then to dream of it, and ol
men whispering its name and pointing to it. Then h > eould not bear to look at
it, nor yet to Ivnn his back up»ui it. Now. it is every night the lurking-place of a
ghos< • v shadow :— a silen( something, hoirible to see, but whether birtl, or beast,
or muflled human shajic, he cannot ♦<?!!.

When he is in his cell by day, he feai-s tlio lillle yard without. When he is in
the yard, he dreads to re-enter the cell. When night comes, there stands the
phantom in the corner, if he have the courage to stand in its place, and drive it
out (he had once : being desperate), it bioods ui)on his bed. In the twilight, and
always at the same hour, a voice calls to him by name ; as the darkness thickens,
his r.oom begins to live ; and cn en that, his comfort, is a hi«leous figure, watching
him till daybreak.

Again, by slow degrees, these horrible fancies dci>art from him one by
one : rctuniing sometijues, imexi)cctedly, but at longer intervals, and in less
alarming shapes. He has talked upon religious mattcis with the gentleman
who visits him, and has read his Bible, and has written a prayer uj)on his
slate, and Inmg it up as a kind of protection, and an assurance of Heavenly com-
panionship. He ilreams now, sometimes, of his children ov his wife, but is sure
that they are dead, or have tleserted him. He is easily moved to tears ; is gehile,
submissive, and broken-spit ited. Occasionally, the olil agony comes back : a very
little thing will revive it ; even a familiar sound, or the scent of summer fK)wers in
the air ; but it tloes not last long, now : for the world without, has come to be the
vision, and this solitary life, the sad reality.

If his term of imprisomnent be short — l \\\o,m comparatively, for short it cannot
be — the last half year is almost worse than all ; for then he thinks the prison will
take tire and he be burnt in the ruins, or that he is doomed to die within the walls,
or that he will be detaincil on some false charge aiul sentenced for another tenu :
or that something, no matter what, must hajipen to prevent his going at large.
And this is natural, ami impossible to be reasoned against, because, after his long
separation from human life, anti his great sutVering, any event will appear to him
more probable in the contemplation, than the being restored to lioerty and his
fellow-creatures.

If his period of confinement have been vciy long, the prospect of release
bcwildei-s and confuses him. His broken heart may flutter for a moment, when
he thinks of the worid outside, and what it might ha: e been to him in all
those lonely years, but that is all. The cell-iloor has been closed too long on all
its hopes and cares. Better to have hangetl him in the beginning th;'" bring
him to this pass, and send him forth to mingle with liis kind, who are Ins kind no
more.

On the haggard fiice of every man among these prisoners, the same expression
sat. I know not what to liken it to. It had something of that strained attention
which w-e see upon the flices of the blind and deaf, mingled with a kind of horror,
as though they had all been secretly terrified. In every little chamber that 1
entered, and at every giate through which I looked, I seemed to see the same
appalling countenance. It lives in my menioiy, with the fascination of a remark-
able picture. I'arade before my eyes, a hundred men, with one among them
newly released from this solitary suftering, and I would point him out.

The fiices of the women, as I have said, it humanises and refines. Whether this
be because of their better natme, which is elicited in solitude, or because of theii

—I WW

itil they bcscl
"iirlits (Irca.l-
■p l>iilli in his
)o thcro, JUKI
<>' it, iind ul
n to look at
)K-placc of a
i»<l, or l)cas(,

'Iicn he is in
c stands the
inul (hive it
^v'iliL'ht, and
CSS tln'ckens,
ic, walchinj:

lini one hv
:«iul in less

gentleman |
L'»' upon his
ivenly eoni-
l)ul is sure
; is ^ci.ilc,
aek : a Nery
n- (lowers in
le to be the

)it it cannot
prison will
n the walls,
•ther tenii ;
E? at iar<;e.
cr liis lon^r
Jear to him
ty and his

of release
i«nt, when
him in all
>n.i; on all
h;i" hrin^'
IS kind no

Ihijitness for Society cti^endcred.

('%

expression
I attention
of horror,
•er that I
the same
a remark-
)ng them

ether this
■ of thci

I tcinfj gentler crentr, res, of ^renter i)alience and loii^'er stillorin^. f do not know;
i>ul so it is. Til it the punisjjmcnt is nevertheless, to n>y thinking;, luliy as cruel
ind as wronj,' ii* tlicir ease, as in that of the men, I iire<| scarcely add.

My fiiin cciiviclion is that, inde|)endrnt of the nunt.d anguish it occasions - an
mulish s'^ actite and so tremendous, that all imaj^'inalion ot it must lall far short
oT tli(> reality it wears the mind into a morbid state, which ren<lcrs it milit for the
if)ii^'l) conlailaml busy a(:li(»n of the world. It is my lixed (i|)ini(iti that those who
have under^'one this punishment, mi ,sr |)ass into sneicly a^^ain morally unhealthy
and diseaseil. There arc many instances on record, of men who have chosen, w
have been condcnmcd, to lives of perlert solitude, but f scarcely renu-mber one,
. vcn amonj,' saj^es ol stfaij,' and vij^orcnis iulellect, wliere its edect has not become
ipparcnt, in some disordered train ot' thought, or some ^doomy hallucination.
What monstrous phantoms, bred of despondency and doubt, and born and reared
111 solitude, have stalked upon the earth, making' creation u^dy, and darkening the
lace of J leaven !

Suicides are rare among these jirisoners : are almost, indeed, unknown. But
no argument in favour (»!" the system, can reasonably be deduced from this circum-
-tauce, allliou^^h it is very often urj^ed. All men who have juade diseases of the
mind their study, know perfectly well that such extreme depression and despair as
will change the whole character, and beat down all its ])owers of elasticity and
t','l-resistance, may be at work within a man, and yet stop short of self-destruction.
This is a common case.

That it makes the senses dull, and by degrees impairs the bodily faculties, I am
(]uite sure. 1 remarked to those who were with me in this very establishment at
I'liiladelphia, that the criminals who had been there long, were deaf. They,
w ho were in the hal)it of seeing these men constantly, were jjerfcctly ama/ed at
I lie idea, which they regardcfl as j^Toundless and fanciful. And yet the very first
prisoner to whom they appealed — one of their (jwn selection — conliinied my im-
jMcssion (which was unknown to him) instantly, and said, with a genuine air it was
ini|)ossible to doubt, that he couldn't think how it haj)pened, but he xvas growing
\ciy dull of hearing.

That it is a sin;;ularly une(|ual punishment, and affects the worst man least,
there is no doubt. Jn its superior elliciency as a means of reformation, compared
with that other code of regulations which allows the jirisoners to work in cora-
jxany without communicating together, I have not the smallest faith. All the
instances of reformation that were mentioned to me, were of a kind that might
have been — and I have no doubt whatever, in my own mind, would have been —
equally well brought about by the Silent System. With regard to such men as
the negro burglar and the En<;lish thief, even the most enthusiastic have scarcely
any hope of tlieir conversion.

It seems to me that the objection that nothing wholesome or good has ever had
its growth in such unnatural solitude, and that even a dog or any (jf the more
inlelligeut among beasts, would pine, and mojie, and rust away, beneath its
infhience, woukl be in itself a suOicient argument against this system. But when
we recollect, in addition, how very cruel and severe it is, and that a solitary life is
always liable to peculiar and distinct objections of a most deplorable nature, which
have arisen here, and call to mind, moreover, that the choice is not between
this system, and a bad or ill-considered one, but l)etween it and another
which has worked well, and is; in its whole design and practice, excellent ;
there is surely more than sufificient reason for abandoning a mode of punishment
attended by so little hope or promise, and fraught, beyond dispute, with such a
host of evils.

As a relief to its contemplation, I will close this chapter with a curious story

F

%

;ii i.

; 1 1'

iV'

66

jimerUan Notes,

arisinj; out of the same theme, which was related to mc, on the occasion of thi

visit, by some of the f,'cntlcnicn concernetl.

At one of the periodical meetinj^s of the inspectors of this prison, a working;

man of Philadclpiiia presented himfielf before the Board, and earnestly recjuestetl

to be placed in solitary confinement. On beinj^ asked what motive could possibly

prompt him to make this strange demand, he answered that he had an irresistible

propensity to r^ct drunk ; that he M-as constantly indulj^inj^r it, to his j^ieat misery

and ruin ; that he had no power of resistance ; that he wished to be put beyond

the reach of tem|)tation; and that he could think of no better way than this. Ii

was jiointed out to him, in repl}', that the prison was for criminals who had been

tried and sentenced by the law, and could not be made available for any such

fanciful purposes ; he was exhorted to abstain from intoxicating' drinks, as he

surely might if he would ; and received other veiy good advice, with which he

retired, exceedingly dissatisfied with the result of his ai)plication.

He came again, and again, a' 1 again ant was so very earnest and importunate,

........

that i\^ last they took counsel i.

self foi" admission, if we reject i i •: ..':;■

be glad to go away, and then we nrlt

.nd said, " He will crtainly (pialify him-
'ore. Let us shut 1 a up. lie will soon
•^ rid of him." So .uy made him sign a
statement which would ])rcvent his .ver s; . 'ming an aclif n for false imprison-
ment, to the cfl'cct that his incarceration was v.-jluntaiy, and of his own seeking ;
they requested him to take notice that the officer in attendance had orders to release
him at any hour of the day or niglU, when he might knock upon his door for that
purpose ; but desired him to understand, that once going out, ho woidd not be
admitted any more. These conditions agreed u])on, and he still remaining in the
same mind, he was conducted to the jirison, and shut up in one of tlie cells.

Ill this cell, the man, Avho had not the firmness to leave a glass of liquor
standing untastcd on a tabic before him — in this cell, in solitary continement, and
working every day at his trade of shoemaking, this man remained nearly two
years. Plis health beginning to fail at the expiration of that time, the surgeon
recommended that he should work occasionally in the garden ; and as he liked
the notion very much, he went about tliis new occupation with great cheerfulness.

He was digging here, one summer day, very industriously, when tlie wicket in
the outer gate chanced to be left open : showing, beyond, the well-remembered
dusty road and sunburnt fields. The M'ay Avas as free to him as to any man living,
but he no sooner raised his head and caught sight of it, all shining in the light,
than, with the involuntary instinct of a prisoner, he cast away his spade, scam-
pered off as fast as his legs w^ould carrv' him, and never once looked back.

CHAPTER VIII.

WASHIXGTOX. THE LEGISLATURE. AND THE PRESIDENT'S HOUSE.

We left Philadelphia by steamboat, at six o'clock one very cold morning, and
turned our fiices towards Washington.

In the course of this day's journey, as on subsequent occasions, we encountered
some Englishmen (small farmers, perhn]is, or country publicans at home) who
were settled in America, and were travelling on their own affairs. Of all grades
and kinds of men that jostle one in the public conveyances of the States, these are
often the mt)st intolerable and the most insufferable companions. United to every
disagi'ecable characteristic that the \vorst kind of American travellers possess,
these countrymen of ours display an amount of insolent conceit and cool assump-

■asicn of thi

A Scene on board.

67

tion of superiority, quite monstrous to bclioUI. In the coarse familiarity of their
approach, and the cllVontcry of their incpiisitivcncss (which tiiey are in ^Mcat haste
to assert, as if they panted to reven^'e thcni'^clvcs upon tlie decent old restraints of
home), they suipass any native spocimens that came within my ran;;e of observa-
tion : and I often f,new so patriotic when 1 saw and heard them, that I would
cheerfully have submitted to a reasonable line, if 1 could have j^'iven any other
country in the whole world, the honour of clainiin;^' them for its children.

As Washin{,'ton may be called the heail-tiuarters of tobacco-tinctured saliva,
the time is come Vnen [ must confess, without any disguise, that the prevalence
of those two odious practices of chewinj^ and expectorating^' began about this time
to be anything Init agreeable, and soon became most offensive and sickening. In
all the ])ublic j)laces of America, this filthy custom is recognised. In the courts
of law, the judge has his spttoon, the crier his, the witness his, and the prisoner
his ; while the jurymen and spectators are provided for, as so many men who in
the course of nature mujt desire to spit incessantly. h\ the hospitals, the students
of medicine are recjuested, by notices upon the wall, to eject their tobacco juice
into the bcjxes provided for that purpose, and not to discolour the stairs. In
public buildings, visitors are implored, through the same agency, to squirt the
essence of their quids, or *' plugs," as I have heard them called by gentlemen
learned in this kind of sweetmeat, into the national spittoons, 'd not about the
bases of the marble columns. But in some parts, this cu. on "s inseparably
mixed up with every meal and morning call, ancl wilh all the ♦lan'- dons of social
life, ihe stranger, who follows in the track I took myself, si." fiitu it in its full
bloom and glory, luxuriant in all its alarming recklessness* \ ''-^.shington. And
let him not jiersuade himself (as I once did, to my shame) t" : ")revious tourists
have exaggerated its extent. The thing itself is an exaggeration of nastiness,
which cannot b^ outdone.

On board this steamboat, there were two young gentienien, with shirt-collars
reversed as usual, and armed with very big walking-sticks ; who planted two seats
in the middle of the deck, at a distance of some four paces apart ; took out their
tobacco-boxes ; aiui sat down opposite each other, to chew. In less than a
quarter of an hour's time, these hopeful youths had shed about them on the clean
boards, a copious shower of yellow rain ; clearing, by that means, a kind of magic
circle, within whose limits no intruders dared to come, and which they never failed
to refresh and re-refresh before a spot was dry. This being before breakfast, rather
disposed me, I confess, to nausea ; but looking attentively at one of the expec-
torators, I plainly saw that he was young in chewing, and felt inwardly uneasy,
himself. A glow of delight came over me at this discovery ; and as I marked his
{■ACQ turn paler and paler, and saw the ball of tobacco in his left cheek, quiver
with his suppressed agony, while yet he spat, and chewed, and spat again, in
emulation of his older friend, I could have fallen on his neck and implored him
to go on for hours.

We all sat down to a comfortable breakfast in the cabin below, where there was
no more hurry or confusion than at such a meal in England, and where there was
certainly greater pohteness exhibited than at most of our stage-coach banquets.
At about nine o'clock w'e arrived at the railroad station, and went on by the cars.
At noon we turned out again, to cross a wide river in another steam-boat ; landed
at a continuation of the railroad on the opposite shore ; ancl went on by other cars ;
in which, in the course of the next hour or so, we crossed by wooden bridges, each
a mile in length, two creeks, called respectively Great and Little Gunpowder. The
water in both was blackened with flights of canvas-back(rd ducks, which are most
delicious eating, and abound hereabouts at that season of the year.

These bridges are of wood, have no parapet, and are only just wide enough for

j!5

i!'.:

■i\^

68

Amerioin Notes,

Ihc nassn},'o of tlic trains ; wliicli, in the event of the smallest accident, would
inevitably be jjlun^ed into the river. They are startiinj,' contrivances, and are
most a^^rceable when passed.

We st()p|)ed to dine at Baltimore, and beinj; now in AEaryland, were waited on,
for the hrst tinie, by slaves. Tiie sensation of exacting any service from human
crcatuics who arc boujijht and sold, and bcin;^, for the lime, a jiarty as it were to
their condition, is not an enviable one. The institution exi^^ts, jK-rhajis, in its least
repulsive and most mitij^Mted form in such a town as this ; but it is slavery ; and
thouf^h I was w'tli respect to it, an innocent man, its presence fdlcd me with a
sense of shame and self-reproach.

After ilinner, W(^ went ilown to the railroad again, and took our seats in the cars
for Washington. Being rather early, those men and boys who hajipened to have
nothing particular to do, an<l were curious in foreigners, came (according to custom)
round the carriage in which I sat ; let down all the windows ; thrust in their heads
and shoulders ; hooked themselves on conveniently, by their elbows ; and fell to
comparing notes on the subject of my personal apj^earance, with as much
indiflercnce as if I were a stuffed hgure. I never gained so much nncomjjromising
information with reference to my own nose and eyes, and various imjMessions
wrought by my mouth and chin on dilVercnt minds, ancl how my head looks when it
is viewed from behind, as on these occasions. Some gentlemen wore only satisfied
by exercising their sense of touch ; and the boys (who are surprisingly precocious
in America) were seldom satisfied, even by that, but would return to the charge
over and over again. Many a budtling president has walked into my room with
his cap on his head and his hands in his jiockets, and stared at me for two whole
hours : occasionally refreshing himself with a tweak of his nose, or a draught from
the water-jug ; or by walking to the windows and inviting other boys in the street
below, to come up and do likewise : crying, ♦' Here he is ! " " Come on ! "
** Bring all your brothers ! " with other hospitable entreaties of that nature.

We reached Washington at about half-jxast six that evening, and had upon the
way a beautiful view of the Capitol, which is a fine building of the Corinthian
order, placed upon a noble and commanding eminence. Ari-wed at the hotel ; I
saw no more of the place that night ; being veiy tired, and glad to get to bed.

Breakfast over next morning, 1 walk about the streets for an hour or two, and,
coming home, throw up the window in the front and back, and look out. Here i^
Washington, fiesh in my mind and under my eye.

Take the worst parts of the City Road and Pentonville, or the straggling outskirts
of Paris, where the houses are smallest, presei-ving all their oddities, but especially
the small shops and dwellings, occupied in Pentonville (but not in Washington)
by funiiture-brokers, keepers of poor eating-houses, and fanciers of birds. Burn
the whole down ; build it np again in wood and plaster ; widen it a little ; throw-
in part of St, John's Wood ; put green blinds outside all the private houses, with
a red curtain and a white one in every window ; plough up all the roads ; plant a
great deal of coarse turf in every place where it ought not to be ; erect three
handsome buildings in stone and marble, anywhere, but the more entirely out of
everybody's way the better ; call one the Post Office, one the Patent Office, and
one the Treasury : make it scorching hot in the morning, and freezing cold in the
afternoon, with an occasional tornado of wind and dust; leave a brick-lield without
the bricks, in ail central places where a street may naturally be expected : and
that's Washington.

The hotel in which we live, is a long row of small houses fronting on the street,
and opening at the back upon a common yard, in which hangs a great triangle.
Whenever a servant is wanted, somebody beats on this triangle from one stroke up
to seven, according to the number of the house in which his presence is required ;

u

>irawwi

(Tiflcnt, Mould
ii'icos, and arc

crc vvnKod on,
■ i'lom liuinan
y as it wt'ie to
ps, in iis least
slavery; and
'i-'<l inc witli a

Its in llic cars
)cncd to Jiavc
n/,' to custom)
" tiicir heads
i; and fell to
t'l as much
"iiipromisinff

inijiicssions
Doles when it
r'lily satisfied
y I^rccocious
• the cliar^'c
y room witli
r two whole
'■au{,dit from
in tiic street
ome on ! "
turc.
1(1 upon (he

Corinthian
le hotel ; I

to bed.
I' two, and,
it. Here is

ig outskirts
t especially
ashintrton)
■tls. Burn
tie ; throw
'Uses, M-ith
s ; plant a
lect three
■ely out of
Office, and
old in the
d without
ted; and

he street,

triangle.

stroke up

equired ;

The City of Magnijicent Distances.

69

and as all the servants .ire .always being w.anted, and none of them ever come, this
enlivening engine is in full pe*-formance the whole day through. Clothes are drying
in the same yard ; female slaves, with cotton handkerchiefs twisted round Ihcir
heads, are running to and fro on the hotel i)usiness ; blae' waiters cross and
rccross with dishes in their hands ; two ^reat dogs are ])laying u|)on a mound of
loose bricks in the centre of the little scpiare ; a i)ig is turning up his stomach to
(he sun, aud ^Munting "that's comfortable!"; autl neither the men, nor the
women, nor the ilogs, nor the pig. nor any created creature, takes the smallest
notice of the triangle, which is tinj^ding madly all the time.

1 walk to the front window, and look across the road upon a long, straggling
row of houses, one story high, terminatiu),', nearly opposite, but a little to the left,
in a melancholy piece of waste ground with frowzy ^'rass, which looks like a sm.all
piece of country that has taken to drinkinj^', and has (piite lost itself. Standing
anvhow and all wrong, u])on this open space, like something meteoric that has
fallen down from the moon, is an odd, lo|)-sided, onc-cyeil kind of wooden building,
that looks like a church, with a flag-stalV as long as itself slicking out of a steeple
something larger than a tea-chest. Untler the window, is a small stand of coaches,
whose slave-drivers are sunning themselves on tiie steps of our door, and talking
idly together. The three most obtrusive liouscs near at hand, are the three
meanest. On one — a shop, which never has anything in the window, and never
has the door open — is painted in large characters, " Thk City Lunch." At
.-mother, which looks like a backway to somewhere else, but is an independent
building in itself, oysters are procurable in every style. At the third, which is a
very, very little tailor's shop, pants are lixed to order ; or in other words,
pantaloons arc made to measure. And that is our street in Washington.

It is sometimes called the City of Afagnificent Distances, but it might with
greater propriety be termed the City of Magnificent Intentions ; for it is only on
taking a bird's-eye view of it from the lop of^ the Capitol, that one can at all com-
prehend the vast designs of its projector, an aspiring Frenchman. Spacious
avenues, that begin in nothing, and lead nowhere ; streets, mile-long, that only
want houses, roads and inhabitants ; public buildmgs that need but a public to
be complete ; and ornaments 01 great thoroughfares, which only lack great
IhoroughArres to ornament — are its leading features. One might fancy the season
over, and most of the houses gone out of town for ever with their masters. To the
admirers of cities it is a Barmecide Feast : a pleasant field for the imagination to
rove in ; a monument raised to a deceased project, with not even a legible inscription
to record its departed greatness.

Such as it is, it is likely to remain. It was originally chosen for the seat of
Government, as a means of averting the conflicting jealousies and interests of the
different States ; and very probably, too, as being remote from mobs : a consideration
not to be slighted, even in America. It has no trade or commerce of its own :
having little or no population beyond the President and his establishment ; the
members of the legislature who reside there during the session ; the Government
clerks and officers employed in the various departments ; the keepers of the hotels
and boarding-houses; and the tradesmen who supply their tables. It is very
unhealthy. Few people would live in Washington, I take it, who were not obliged
to reside there ; and the tides of emigration and speculation, those rapid and
regardless cun-ents, are little likely to flow at any time towards such dull and
sluggish water.

The principal features of the Capitol, are, of course, the two houses of Assembly.
But there is, besides, in the centre of the building, a fine rotunda, ninety-six feet
in diameter, and ninety-six high, whose circular wall is divided into compartments,
ornamented by historical pictures. Four of these have for their subjects prominent

#. -.

ir-li, I

l!-'-^

s •!

1

'iy-

American Notes.

events in the rcvnlutionnr\' stni^Klc. They were painted by Colonel Tnimhull,
hiniscir ix nienil)cr of W'-isliinf^'ion's stall at the time ol" ihrir oi-cuncncc ; from
which circumstance they derive a peculiar iulercst of their own. In this same hall
Mr. (IreenoM^'irs laijj;e statue of \\'a>liin;,'lon has been lately placed. It has j,Teat
merits of course, but it struck nie as bein^' rather Htraineil antl violent for its sub-
ject. I coidd wish, however, to have seen it in a better lij^ht than it can ever be
viewed iu, where it stands.

There is a very pleasant and cf)mnu)dious library in the Capilol ; and from a
b.dcony in front, the bird's-eye view, of wliich I have just si)()ki'n, may be had,
together with a beautiful jirosjiect of the adjacent country. Jn one of the
ornamented portions of the buildiu};, tliere is a lif^nue of Justice; whereunlo the
(iuide JUjok says, '• the artist at lust coulemplatetl j^iviu^f more of nudity, but he
was warned that the public sentiment in this country would not admit of it, and in
his caution he has i^one, perhajis, into the ojipositc extreme." Poor Justice ! she
has been made to wear much stranj^er ijarments in America than those she pines
in, in the (-ai)itol. J^ct us hope tiiat she has chanfjed her dress-nudver since they
were fashioned, ami that the public sentiment of the countr}' did not cut out the
clothes she hides her lovely fij^ure in, just now.

The House of Kepresentalives is a beautiful and sjjacious hall, of semicircular
shape, suj^ported by handsome pillars. One part of the gallery is appropriated
to the ladies, and there they sit in front rows, and come in, and <,'0 out, as at a
jday or concert. The chair is can()i)icd, and raised considerably al)ovc the floor
of the House ; and every mend)er has an easy chair and a writing desk to him-
self: which is denounced by some pcoi)le out of doors as a most unfortunate and
injudicious arrangement, tending to long sittings and prosaic speeches. It is an
elegant chamber to look at, but a singularly bad one for all purposes of hearing.
The Senate, which is smaller, is free from this objection, and is exceedingly well
atlaptetl t,j the uses for which it is designed. The sittings, I need hardly add,
take place in the day; and the parliamentary forms arc modelled on those of the
old country.

1 WJis sometimes asked, in my progi-ess through other places, -whether T had not
been very niuch impressed by the /icads of the laMmakers at Washington ; mean-
ing not their chiefs and leaders, but literally their individual and personal heads,
whereon their hair grew, and ^'hereby the phrenological character of each legis-
lator was expressed : and I almost as often struck my questioner dumb with
indignant consternation by answering "No, that! didn't remember being at all
overcome." As 1 nmst, at whatever hazard, repeat the avowal here, I will follow
it up by relating my iminessions on this subject in as few words as possible.

In the first jdacc — it may be from some imperfect development of my organ of
veneration — 1 do not remember having ever fainted away, or having even been
moved to tears of joyful pride, at sight of any legislative body. I have borne the
House of Commons like a man, and have yielded to no weakness, but slumber, in
the House of Lords. I have seen elections for borough and county, and have
never been impelled (no matter Avhich party won) to damage my hat by throwing
it up into the air in trium])h, or to crack my voice by shouting forth any reference
to our Glorious Constitution, to the noble purity of our independent voters, or the
unimpeachable integrity of our independent members. Having withstood such
Strang attacks npon my fortitude, it is possible that I may oe of a cold and insen-
sible temperament, amounting to iciness, in such matters ; and therefore my
impressions of the live pillars ol' the Capitol at Washington must be received with
such grains of allowance as this free confession may seem to demand.

Did I see in this public body an assembage of men, bound together in the
sacred names of Liberty and Freedom, and so asserting the chaste dignity of those

•>•

'f-

Faction*

71

TrumhoM,

rcncc ; from
lis same liall
ll has jrical
t 'or its sub-
can ever be

'"'(I from a
iii'iy be Jiad,
one of (ho
ereunto the
''•'ty, but lie
' '' and jn
i^lice ! she
^ ^hc pines
» J^inee they
cut out the

cmicircular
'piopriated i
out, as at a |
Nc the floor ■
csk to him- I
rtunate and
•^. It is an
of hearing',
dinj,dy well
lardiy add, j
liose of the ,

'■ T had not
•Jii ; mcan-
nal heads,
each leg[is-
lumb with
t-'iiif,' at all
^vill follow
:ble.

y organ of
even l)een
borne the
umber, in
and have
throwing
reference
rs, or the
ood such
nd insen-
efore my
ived with

?r in the
■ of those '

^ i

twin ^oddcsKcs, in all their discussions, as to exalt at once the Eternal rrintiples
to which their names are K'^c-n, and their own character and the churacler of
their countrymen, in the admiring eyes of the whole world ?

It was but a wceU, since an aged, grey-haired man, a lasting honour to the land
that gave him birth, who has done good service to his country, as his lurefalhers
did, anil who will be remembered scores upon scores of years after the worms
bred in its corruption, are but so many grains of dust — it was but a week, since
this old man hail slooil for ilays upon his trial before this very body, chargeil
with having dared t(j assert the infamy of that traffic, which has for its ac-
cursed merchandise men and wonjcn, and their unborn chiUlren. Yes. And
j)ublicly exhi[)iied in the same city all the while ; gilded, framed and glazed ; hung
up for general admiration ; shown to strangers not with shame, but pride ; its face
not turned towanls the wall, itself not taken down and burned ; is the Unanimous
Declaration of the Thirteen United States of America, which solemnly declares that
All Men are created Ivpial ; antl are endowed by their Creator witli the Inalien-
able Rights of Life, Liberty, and the l^usuit of Happiness !

It was not a montiv since this same body had sat calmly by, and heard a man,
one of themselves, with oaths which beggars in their drink reject, threaten to cut
another's throat from ear to ear. There he sat, among them ; not crushed by the
general feeling of the assemLjjy, but as good a man as any.

There was but a week to come, and another of that body, f(jr doing his duty to
those who sent him there ; for claiming in a Republic the Liberty and Freedom
of expressing their sentiments, and maldng known their prayer ; would be tried,
found guilty, and have strong censure passed upon him by the rest. His was a
grave oilence indeed; for years before, he had risen up and said, ** A gang of
male and female slaves lor sale, warranted to breed like cattle, linked to each other
by iron fetters, are passing now along the open street beneath the windows of your
Temple of Ecpiality ! Look ! " But there are many kinds of hunters engaged in
the i'ursuit ol' lla})piness, and they go variously armed. It is the Inalienable
Right of some among them, to lake the field after t/wi'r Happiness e([uipped with
cat and cartwhip, slc^cks, and iron collar, and to shout their view halloa ! (always
in praise of Liberty) to tlie music of clanking chains and bloody stripes.

Where sat the many legislators of coarse threats ; of words and blows such as
coalhcavers deal upon each other, when they forget their breeding ? On every
side. Eveiy session had its anecdotes of that kind, and the actors were all there.

Did I recognise in this assembly, a body of men, who, ajiplying themselves in a
new world to correct some of the falsehoods and vices of the old, purilied the
avenues to I*ul)lic Life, paved the dirty ways to Place and Power, debated and
made laws for the Common Good, and had no j^arty but their Country ?

1 saw in them, the wheels that move the meanest perversion of virtuous Politicarl
Machinery that the worst tools ever wrought. Desjiicable trickciy at elections ;
under-handed tamperings with public officers ; cowardly attacks upon opponents,
Mith scurrilous i wspapers for shields, and hired pens for daggers ; shameful
truckhngs to mert'. nary knaves, whose claim to be consitlered, is, tliat eveiy day and
week they sow new crops of ruin with their venal tyj^es, M-hich arc the dragon's
teeth of yore, in evei \thing but sharpness ; aidings and ahettings of cveiy bad in-
clination in the popular mind, and artful suppressions of all its good influences :
such things as these, and in a word. Dishonest Faction in its mosl (ieprn\od and
most unblushing form, stared out fiom every coiner of the crowded hall.

Did I see among them, the intelligence and refmement : r'le true, honcsi,
patriotic heart of America ? Here and there, were drops of Jb- blood and ift.,
but they scarcely coloured the stream of desperate adventurers which set.; that v.'ay
for profit and for pay. It is the game of these men, and of their profligate organs,

''I

t

(i I-'

T

r.

72

American Notes.

to make the strife of i)olitics so fierce and bnital, and so destructive of all self-
respect in -worthy men, tliat sensitive and delicate-ininded jKTsons shall be kept
aloof, and ihcy, and such as they, be left to battle out ihciv scllish views unchecked.
And thus this lowest of all scrambling lights j;oes on, and they who in other coun-
tries would, from their intellifrence and .station, most asi)ire to make the laws, do
here recoil the farthest from that dei,'railation.

That there are, amonj:; the rei)resentatives of the jicople in both Houses, and
anion},' all i)arties, some men of hi},di character and {^reat abilities, I need no^ ?i\.
The foremost anion;j; those politicians who are known in ^'aiif)pe, have bvcu already
described, and I see no reason to depart from tie rule I have laid down for my
j,niidance, of abslaininj,' from all mention of individuals. It will be sulhcient to
add, that to the most favourable accounts that have been written of them, I more
than fully and mo.>l heartily subscribe; and that ]KM-sonal intercourse and five
communication have bred within me, not the result i)redicled in the very doubtful
proverb, but increased admiration and respect. They are striking men to look at,
hard to deceive, jiiompt to act, lions in energy, Crichtons in varied accomplish-
ments, Indians in tire of eye and <,'esturc, Americans in strong and generous im-
pulse ; and they as well rej)resent the honour and wisdom of their country at home,
as the distinguished gentleman who is now its ^linister at the British Court sus-
tains its highest character abroad.

I visited both liouses nearly every day, during my stay in Washington. On my
initiatory visit to the House of Representatives, they (Uvided against a decision of
the chair; but the chaii' won. The second time I went, the member who Avas
speaking, being interru])ted by a laugh, mimicked it, as one child would in quar-
relling with another, and added, " that ho woukl make honourable gentlemen
opposite, sing out a little more on the other side of their mouths presently." But
interruptions are rare ; the sjicakcr being usually heard in silence. There are more
quarrels than with us, and more threatenings than gentlemen are accustomed to
exehar e in any civilised society of which we have record : but fiirm-yard imita-
tions have not as yet been imported from the Parliament of the United Kingdom.
The feature in oratory which appears to be the most practised, and most relished,
is the constant repetition of the same idea or shadow of an idea in fresh words ;
and the inquity out of doors is not, '* What did he say ?" but, " Hoav long did he
speak .?" ThcbC, however, are but enlargements of a principle which prevails
elsewhere.

The Senate is a dignified and decorous body, and its proceedings are conducted
with much gravity and order. Both houses are handsomely carpeted ; but the
state to which these carpets are reduced by the universal disregard of the spittoon
with which every honouiablc member is accommodated, and the extraordinary
improvements on the pattern which arc squirted and dabbled upon it in every
direction, do not admit of being described. I will merely observe, that I strongly
recommend all strangers not to look at the floor ; and if they happen to drop
anything, though it be their purse, not to pick it up with an ungloved hand on
any account.

It is somewhat remarkable too, at first, to say the least, to see so many honour-
able members with swelleil faces ; and it is scarcely less remarkable to discover
that this appearance is caused by the quantity of tobacco they contrive to stow
within the hollow of the cheek. It is strange enough too, to see an honourable
gentleman leaning back in his tilted chair with his legs on the desk before him,
shaping a convenient " phig " with his penknife, and when it is qui e ready for use,
shooting the old one from his mouth, as from a pop-gun, and clapping the nc\\'
one in its place,

I was surprised to obseiTC that even steady old chewcrs of great experience, arc

'vo of all self.
shall be kept
^vs unchcckcl.
Ill other couii-
c the Jaws, Jo

Ifouscs, and

IH'C'd llof <:--__

''v.cn alreadv
('own f(,i- ,j^^.

- sullieient (n
them, J more
n'se and free
very doubtful
-» to look at,
aceomj)Jisli.
k'<^Mierous im-
'f'y.'Uhonie,
h Court su.s-

ton. On mv
a clecision oY
^cr M'ho was
>iil(l in quar-

' gentlemen
•"tly." But
-re arc more
customed to
■yard imita-
1 Kin^'dom.
>st relished,
csh words ;
lon^ did he
ch prevails

conductctl
^l ; but the
le spittoon
raordinary
it in every
I strongly
» to drop
t hand on

y honour-
3 discover
e to stow
)nourabJe
f"ore hini,
y Tor use,
the new

ence, are

■V*

W

Goo J and bad Tobacco-'^ots.

73

not always good marksmen, which has rather inclined mc to doubt that general
])roliciency with the rille, of which we have heard so mueli in J'jigland. Several
geiUleniea calleti upon me who, in the course of conversation, fre(iuently missed
llic sj)iUoon at five paces ; and one (but he was certainly short-sighted) mistook
the closed sash lor the open window, at three. On another occasion, when 1 dined
out, and was silting with two ladies and some gentlemen round a fire before dinner,
one of the company fell short of the fire-jilace, six distinct times. T am disposed
to think, however, that this was occasioned by his not aiming at that object ; as
there was a white marble hearth befo/e the fender, which was more convenient,
and may have suited his purpose belter.

The Patent Olhcc at Washington, fuiiiishcs an extraordinaiy'cxnmj)le of Ameri-
can enterprise and ingenuity; for the inmiense number of models it contains, are
the accumulated inventions of only live years ; the whole of the jirevious collection
having been destroyed by i\x<i. The elegant structure in Mhich they arc arranged,
is one of design rather than execution, for there is but one side erected out of four,
though the works are stopped. 'I'he Pcjst Office is a very compact and very beau-
tiful l)uilding. \\\ one of the dej)artments, among a collection of rare and curious
articles, are de|)osited the pres-^nts which have been made from lime to time to the
American ambassadors at foreign courts by llie various potentates to M'hom they
M'cre the accredited agents of tlie ]<epul)lic; gifts which by the law they are n<jt
permitted to retain, I confess that I looked upon this as a very painful exhibition,
and one by no means flattering to the national standard of honesty and honour.
That can scarcely be a high state of moral feeling which imagines a gentleman of
repute and station, likely to be corrupted, in the discharge of his duty, by the
present of a snufl-box, or a richly-mounted sword, or antEasTern shawl^ and surely
the Nat'on who reposes conlidence in her appointed scp'ants, is Hkely to be better
servec, than she who makes them the subject of such very mean and paltry
suspicions.

At George Town, in the suburbs, there is a Jesuit College ; delightfully situated,
and, so far as 1 had an opportunity of seeing, well managed. ^Many persons who
are not members of the Romish Church, avail themselves, I believe, of these
institutions, and of the advantageous opportunities they afford for the education
of their children. The heights of this neighbourhood, above the Potomac River,
arc veiy picturesque ; and are free, I should conceive, from some of the insalu-
brities of Washington, The air, at that elevation, was quite cool and refreshing,
when in the city it was burning hot.

The President's mansion is more like aa English club-house, both within and
without, than any other kind of establishment with which I can compare it. The
ornamental ground about it has been laid out in garden wal':s ; they are pretty,
and agreeable to the eye ; though they have that uncomfortable air of having been
made yesterday, which is far from favourable to the disj)lay of such loeauties.

Wy first visit to this house was on the morning after my arrival, when I was
canied thither by an official gentleman, who was so kind as to charge himself with
my ])reseu'iation to the President.

We entered a large hall, and having twice or thrice rung a bell which nobody
answered, walked without further cercmo,jy through the rooms on the ground floor,
as divers other gentlemen (mostly Avilh their hats on, and their hands in their
pockets) were doing very leisurely. Some of these had ladies with them, to whom
they were showing the premises ; othe- s were lounging on the chairs and sofas ;
others, in a perfect state of exhaustion from listlessness, were yawning drearily.
The greater portion of this' assemblage were rather asserting their supremacy than
doing anything else, as they had no particular biisiness there, that anybody knew
of. ■ A few were closely eyeing the nioveables, as if to make quite sure that the-

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74

Ameruan Notes,

President (who was far from popular) had not made away with any of the furniture,
or sold the iixturcs for his private bene/it.

After {^luncins^f at these loungers ; wtio were scattered over a pretty drawing-room,
opening uj.on a terrace which commamled a beautiful ])rosi)eci of the river ami
the ailjacc'it country ; and who were sauntering, too, about a larger state-rooni
called the . istern iJrawing-room ; ve went up-stairs into another cliamber, where
were certain visitors, waiting for audiences. At sight of my conductor, a black
in ])]ain clothes and yellow slippers who was gliding noiselessly about, anil whisper-
ing messages in the ears of the more impatient, made a sign of recognition, and
glided of!" to announce him.

We had previously looked into another chamber fitted all round with a gre.it
bare wooden desk or counter, whereon lay liles of ncwsjxipers, to which sundry
gentlemen Averc refeiTing. But there were no such means of beguiling the time
in this apartment, which was as unpromising and tiresome as any waiting-room in
one of our public establishments, or any physician's dining-room during his hours
of consultation at home.

There were some hfteen c* twenty persons in the room. One, a tall, wir)',
muscular old man, from the west ; sunburnt and swarthy ; with a brown white hat
on his knees, and a giant umbrella resting behvecn his legs ; who sat bolt upright
in his chair, frinvning steadily at the carj-jct, and twitching the hard lines about
his mouth, as if he had made up his mind " to lix " the President on what he had
to say, and wouldn't bate him a grain. Another, a Kentucky farmer, six-feet-six in
height, with his hat on, and his hands under his coat-tails, who leaned against
the wall and kicked the door with his heel, as though he had Time's head
under his shoe, and were hterally '* killing " him. A third, an oval-faced, bilious-
looking ma'i, with sleek black hair crapped close, and whiskers and beard shaved
down to bhie dots, who sucked the head 'of a thick stick, and from time to time
took it out of his mouth, to see how it was getting on. A fourth did nothing but
whistle. A fifth dia nothing but spit. And indeed all these gentlemen were so
veiy persevering and energetic in this latter jiarticular, and bestowed their favours
so abundantly u])on the carpet, that I take it for granted the l*resi(.lential house-
maids have high wages, or, to speak more genteclh, an ample amount of "com-
pensation : " which is the American word for salary, in the case of all public
servants.

We had not waited in this room many minutes, before the black messenger
returned, and conducted us into another of smaller dimensions, where, at a business-
like table covered with papers, sat the President himself. Jle looked somewhat
worn and anxious, and well he might; being at war with eveiybody~but the ex-
pression of his face was mild and pleasant, and his manner was remarkably
unaffected, gentlemanly, and agreeable. I tiiought that in his whole carriage and
demeanour, he became his station singularlv well.

Bemg advised that the sensible etiquette of the re]niblicari court, admitted of a
traveller, like myself, declining, without any impropriety, an invitation to dinner,
which did not reach me until I had concluded my arrangements for leaving
Washington some days before that to which it referre^l, 1 only returned to this
house once. It was on the occasion of one of those general assemblies which are
held on certain nights, between the hours of nine and twelve o'clock, and are
called, rather otldly. Levees.

I went, with my wife, at about ten. There was a pretty dense crowd of carriages
and pcojile in the court-}'ard, and so far as I <"oald make out, there were no very
clear regulations for the taking up or setting down of company. There were
certainly no policemen to soothe startled horses, eithrr by sawing at their bridles
or flourishing truncheons in their eyes ; and I am ready to make oath that no

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The White House.

75

inoilcnsivc persons were knocked violently on the head, or poked acutely in their
backs or stonia'jhs ; or brought to a stand-still Ity any such gentle means, and then
taken into custody for not moving on. J'.ut llierc was no confusion or disorder.
Our carriage reached the porch in its turn, without any blustering, swearing,
shouting, backing, or other disturl)ance : and we dismounted with as much ease
and comfort as though we had been escorted by the whole ^Metropolitan Force
from A to Z inclusive.

The suite of rooms on the gvound-floor, were lighted uj) ; and a military band
was playing in the hall. In tne smaller (hawing-room, the centre of a circle of
company, were ihe President and his daughter-in-law, who acted as the lady of
the mansion ; and a very interesting, graceful, and accomplished lady too. One
gentleman who stood among this grouj), ai)peared to lake upon himself the
lunclions of a master of the ceremonies. I saw no other ollicers or attendants,
and none were needed.

The great drawing-room, which I have already mentioned, and the other
chambers on the ground-floor, were crowded to excess. The company was not,
in our sense of the term, select, for it comprehended persons of very many grades
and classes ; nor was there any great display of costly attire : indeed, son^e of the
costumes may have been, for aught 1 know, grotcscjue enough. But the decorum
and jiroi^iety of behaviour which prevailed, were unbroken by any rude or dis-
agreeable incident ; and every man, even among the miscellaneous crowd in the
hall who were athnitted without any orders or tickets to look on, ajjpeared to feel
thai he was a ]xart of the Institution, and was responsible for its preserving a
becoming character, and apjiearing to the best advantage.

That these visitors, too, whatever their station, were not without some refine-
ment of taste and appreciati'^n of intellecti.ud gifts, and gratitude to those men
who, by the peaceful exercise of great abilities, shed new charms and associations
upon the homes of their countrymen, and elevate their character in other lands,
was most earnestly testified by their rece])tion of Washington Irving, my dear
friend, who had recently been ai)])ointed Minister at the court of Spain, and who
was among them that night, in his new character, for the first and last time before
going abroad, 1 sincerely believe that in all the madness of American politics,
lew public men would have been so earnestly, devotedly, and affectionately caressed,
as this most charming writer : and I have seldom respected a public assembly
more, than I did this eager throng, when I saw them turning with one mind from
noisy orators and officers of state, and flocking with a generous and honest
impulse round the man of cjuiet pursuits : proud in his promotion as reflecting
back upon their countiy : and giateful to him with their whole hearts for the store
of graceful fancies he had jioured out among them. Long may he dis])ense such
treasures with unsparing hand ; and long may they remember him as worthily !

The term we had assigned for the duration of our stay in Washington, was now
at an end, and we Avere to begin to travel ; for the railroad distances we had tra-
versed yet, in journeying among these older towns, are on that gicat continent
looked upon as nothing. »

I had at first intended going South — to Charleston. But when I came to con-
sider the length of time which this journey would occupy, and the premature heat
of the season, which even at Washing-ton had been often very trying ; and
weighed moreover, in my own mind, the ])ain of living in the constant contem-
plation of slavery, against the more than doubtful chances of my ever seeing it, in
the time I had to spare, stripped of tlie disguises in which it would certainly be
dressed, and so adding any item to the host of f.icts already heaj^ed together on
the subject ; I began to listen to old whisperings A\hich had often l;een present to

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76

American Notes.

mc at home in En<,'lan(l, when 1 Jittlc thouj^ht of ever being here ; and to chcani
again of cities growing up, Hke }xihices in fairy tales, among the wilds and forests
of tnc west.

Th.c advice I received in most quarters when I began to yield (o my desire of
travelling towards that jioint of the compass was, according to custom, sutlicientlv
eheeiless : my companion being threatened with more peiils, tiangers, and chs-
eomfoits, thaii I can remember or would catalogue if 1 could ; but of M'hich it
will be suMicicnt to remark that blowings-uj) in steam-boats and breakings down
in coaches were among the least. lUit, having a western route sketchcl out \\\
mc by tlic best antl kindest autliority to which 1 could have resorted, and j)ullinL;
no great faith in these discouragements, I soon determined on my plan of action.

This was to travel south, only to Kichmond in Mrginia; and then to turn, an<l
shape our course for the Far West ; whither 1 beseech the reader's company, in ,\
new chapter.

CHAPTER IX.

A NIGHT .STEA:MF.R ON THE POTOMAC RIVI'.R. VIRGINIA ROAD, AND A RLAfk'
DRIVF.K. RK^IIMOND. BAI/riMORIi. THE HARRISBURG MAIL, AND A
C.Lnil'SE OE THE CITY. A CANAL HOAT.

"We were to proceed in the first instance by steam-boat ; and as it is usual to A-:c\)
on board, in consequence of the starting-hour being four o'clock in the moryiing,
we went down to where she lay, at that very uncomfortable time for such exjxxii-
tions when slij^pers are most valuable, and a Hrmiliar bed, in the perspeeiive r\ ..n
hoiu' or two, looks uncommonly jileasant.

It is ten o'clock at night : say half-past ten : moonlight, warm, and duil caough.
The steamer (not unlike a child's Noah's ark in form, with the machincrv n the
top of the roof) is riding lazily up and down, and bumping clumsily wgaiiv i the
wooden pier, as the ripple of the river trifles with its nnwicldly c,\rcase. The
wharf is some distance from the city. There is nobody down hen. ; and one or two
dull lamps upon the stetimer's decks are the ov.> signs of life remaining, when our
coach haj driven away. As soon as our footsup? asc I) iard upon the planks, a fat
negress, particularly favoured by nature in respeci of hv *.le, emerges from some
dark stairs, and marshals my wife towar r the ladies' cal m, to which retreat she
goes, followed by a mighty bale of cloaks and gicat-coats. I valiantly resolve not
to go to bed at all, but to walk up and down the pier till morning,

. I begin my promenade — thinking of all kinds of distant tilings and persons,
and of nothing near— and pace up and down for half-an-hour. Then I go on
board again ; and getting into the light of one of the lamps, look at my watch
and tliink it must ha\e stoj-)ped ; and wonder what has become of the faithful
secretary whom I brought along with me from Boston. He is supping with our
late landlord (a Field Marshal, at least, no doubt) in honour of our departure,
and may be two hours longer. I Avalk again, but it gets duller and duller : the
moon goes down : next June seems f;irther off in the dark, and the echoes of my
footsteps mdie mc ncnous. It has turned cold too ; and walking up and down
without ri) . omp.iivon in such lonely circumstances, is but poor amusement. So
I break my staait li resc'.uUon, and think it may be, perhaps, as well to go to bed.

I go on boara again ; open the door of the gentlemen's cabin ; and walk in.
Somehow or other— !r>m its being so quiet I suppose — I have taken it into my
head tha: tli'ie is nobody th 1 \ To my lioiTor and amazement it is full of sleepers
in every sta ••, s'laj ,.', attitude, and variety of slumber : in the berths, nn the

'\

Night Steamer.

77

usual to ;,?.'c

diairs, on the tloors, on the tables, and particuhirly round the stbve, my detested
enemy. I take another step forward, and slij) on the shininj:; face of a bhiek
stewaul, who lies rolled in a blanket on the lioor. Jle jumps up, grins, half in
jiain and half in hospitality ; whisi)ers niy own name in my ear ; and j^ropinjj
anion},' the sleepers, leads me to my berth. Standinj,' beside it, I eounl these
slumberint; passengers, and get past lorty. There is no use in going further, so I
begin to undress. As the ehaivs are all occupied, and there is nothing else to put
my clothes on, 1 deposit them u])on the giound : not Mitliout soiling my haiuis,
k)\ it is in the same condition as the carpets in the Cajiitol, and from the same
cause. Having but ])arlially undressed, I chnnbcr on my shelf, and hold the
curtaii; open for a few minutes while I look round on all my fellow travellers
again. That done, I let it fall on them, and on the world : turn round : and go
to sleep.

I wake, of course, when wc get under weigh, foi- there is a good deal of noise.
The day is then just breaking. Everybody wakes at the same time. .Some are self-
possessed directly, and some arc much perplexed to make out where they arc
until they have rubbed their eyes, and leaning on one elbow, looked about them.
Some yawn, some gioan, nearly all spit, and a few get \\\). I am among the
ri:;eis: for it is easy to feel, without going into the fresh air, that the atmosjjhere
of the cabin is vile in the last degree. I huddle on my clotlies, go down into the
fore-cabin, get shaved by the barber, and wash myself. TI.j washing and dres.s-
ing ai)paratus for the ))assengers generally, consists of two jack-towels, three small
wooden basins, a keg of water and a ladle to seiTC it out with, six square inches
of looking-glass, two ditto di'to of yellow soap, a comb and brush for the head,
and nothing for the teeth, l^^verybody uses the comb and brush, excejit myself.
Everybody stares to see me using my own; and two or three gentiemcn are
strongly disposed to banter me on my prejudices, but don't. When I have matle
my toilet, I go upon the hurricane-deck, and set in for two hours of hard wa'ilang
uj) and down. The sun is lising brilliantly ; we are passing Mount V'crnorj,
where Washington lies buried ; the river is wide and rapid ; and its banks are
beautiful. All the glory and splendour of the day are coming on, and growing
brighter every minute.

At eight o'clock, we breakfast in the cabin where I passed the night, biri; liic
w indows and doors are all thrown open, and now it is fresh enough. There is no
huny or greediness apjiarent in the despatch of the meal. It 's longer iharj a
travelling breakfast with us ; more orderly, and more polite.

Soon after nine o'clock we come to Potomac Creek, where ^'•o are to land ; a.td
then conies the oddest part of the journey. Seven stagc-coa' js are preparing to
carry us on. vSome of them are ready, some of them are : ready. Some of
the drivers are blacks, some whites. There arc four horses acli coach, and all
the horses, harnessed oi unharnessed, are there. The pas igers are getting out
of the steamboat, and into the coaches; the luggage is be ,g transferred in noisy
wlieelbaiTOws ; the liorses are frightened, and impatient to start ; the black drivers
arc cRattering to them like so many monkeys; and the ^ lite ones whooping hke
so many drovers : for the mai. thing to be done in all k.ad-. of hostlering here, is
to make as much noise as possible. The coaches are something like the French
coaches, but not nearly so good. In lieu of springs, they are hung on bands of
the strongest leather. There is vei7 little choice or difference between them ; atid
they may he likened to the car portion of the swings at an English fair, roofed,
put upon axle-trees and wheels, and curtained with painted canvas. They are
covered with mud from the roof to the wheel-tixc, and ha^e never been cleaned
since they were first built.

The tickets we have received on board the steamboat are marked No. i, so we

( I'

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78

Americdn Notes.

l)clonj:^ to coach No

r. I throw my coat (ui the box, and hoist my wife and her
maitl into the inside. It has only one step, and that being about a yartl from the
{Ti'ound, is usually ai"»proach.ed by a chair : when there is no cJinir, ladies trust in
Providence. The C(j;ich holds nine inside, iiaving a scat across iVoni door to door,
where we in England put our legs : so that there is only one feat more diflicult in
the performance than getting in, and that is, getting out again. There is only one
outside passenger, anil he sits uj)on the box. As 1 am that one, I climb up ; and
while they are strapping the luggage on the roof, and heaping it into a kind of
tray behind, have a good oi')portunity ol' looking at the driver.

He is a negro — very black indeed. lie is dressed in a coarse pcj^per-and-salt
suit excessively jxitched and darned (particularly at the knees), grey stockings,
enormous unblackcd high-low shoes, and veiy short trousers. He has two odd
gloves : one of j'jarti-coKuned worsted, and one of leather. He lias a very sliort
whip, broken in the middle and bamlaged up with string. And yet he wears a
low-crowned, broad-brimmed, black hat : faintly shadowing forth a kind of insane
imitation of an English coachman! But somebody in authority cries '* (io
ahead !" as I am making these obsen-alions. The mail takes the lead in a four-
horse waggon, and all the coaches follow in procession: headed by No. i.

By the way, whenever an Englishman would cry "All right! "an American
cries " Go ahead !" which is somewhat expressive of the national character of the
two countries.

The fust half mile of the road is over bridges made of loose planks laid across
two parallel poles, which tilt up as the wheels roll over ihem ; and IN the river.
The river ha.- a clayey bottom and is full qf hok^s, so that half a horse is constantly
disa|)pcaiing unexpectedly, and can't be found again for some time.

But we get past even this, and come to the road itself, which is a scries ot
alternate swamps ami gravel-pits. A treniendous place is close before us, the black
driver rolls his eyes, screws his mouth uji very round, and looks straight between
the two leaders, as if he were saying to himself, " ^','e have done this often before,
but noli) 1 think we shall liave a crash." He takes a rein in each hand ; jerks and
pulls at botl; ; and dancc'^' on the sfilashboard with both feet (keeping his seat, of
course) like the late lamented Ducrow on two of his iiery coursers. We come to
die spot, sink down in the mire nearly to the coach windows, tilt on one side at
an angle of forty-live degrees, and stiel; there. The insides scream dismally; the
coach stojis; the horses flounder; all the other six coaches stop ; and their four-
and-twenfy horses ilounder likewise : but merely for company, and in sympathy
with ours. Then the following circumstances occur.

Black Driver (to the horses). " Hi !"

Nothing happens. Insid'^s scream again.

Black Driver (to the horses). "Ho!"

Horses plunge, and splash the black driver.

Gentle.\l\n inside (looking out). " Why, what on airtli — "

Gentleman receives a variety of splashes and draws his head in again, without
finishing his question or waiting for an answer. *

Black Driver (still to the horses). " Jiddy ! Jiddy !"

Horses pull violently, drag the coach out of the hole, and draw it up a bank ; so
steep, that the black driver's legs fly up into the air, and he goes back among the
luggage on the roof. But he immediately recovers himself, and cries (still to the
horses),

"Pill!"

No efiect. On the contrary, the coach be^m to roll back upon No. 2, which
rolls back upon No. 3, whrcli rolls back upon No. 4, and so on, until No. 7 is
heard to curse and swear, nearly a quarter ot a mile behimi.

The Black Driz'er,

79

y wife and lier
I yard from the

liidies trust in
n door to door,
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climb up ; and

into a kind of

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; has two odd
as a very short
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kind of insane
ty cries "Go
lead in a four-
No. I.

an American
laracter of the

iks laid across

IN the river.

e is constantly

is a series of
; us, the black
aig;ht between
is often before,
nd ; jerks and
ig his seat, of
We come to
Dn one side at
dismally; the
nd their four-

in sympathy

gain, without

! ■

ip a bank ; so

r

ck among the
s (still to the

No. 2, which

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y

Hi, Jiddy, Jiddy, Pill!"
■'Ally Loo! Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy.

Pill.

Lee, den. Lee,

Black Driver (louder than before). '* Pill !"

Horses make another struggle to get up the bank, and again the coach rolls

backward.

Black DrivFiI (louder than before). " Pc-c-e-ill !

Horses make a desperate struggle.

Black Driver (recovering spirits).

Horses make another effort.

Black Drivj^.k iwith great vigcnn).
Ally Loo !'

Horses almost do it. .g

Black Drivhr (with his eyes starting out of his head),
dcre. Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy. I'ill- Ally Loo. Lee-e-c-e-e !"

Thev run up the bankj and go down again on the other side at a fearful pace.
It is impossible to stop Ihem, and at the liottom there is a deep hollow, full of
water. The concdi rolis fiiiL^liliully. The insides scream. The mud and water
ily about us. The bhudv driver dances like a madman. Suddenly we are all right
by some extraordinary means, and stop to breathe.

A bhu;k friend of the l)lack driver is sitting on a fence. The black driver
recognises him by t\vir]ing his head romid aiid round like a harlec|uin, rcjlling his
eves, shrugging liis shoulders, and gi inning from ear to ear. lie stops short,
turns to me, and says :

" We shall get you through sa, like a fiddle, and hope a please you when we
get you through sa. Old 'ooman at home sa : " chuckling very much. _" Outside
gentleman sa,'he often )emcmber old 'ooman at home sa," grinning again.
" Ay av, \\ e'll take caie of the old woman. Don't be afraid."

The black driver grins again, l)ut there is another hole, and beyond that, another
bank, close before us. So he stops short: cries (t... ;he horses again) "Easy.
Easy den. Ease. Steady. Hi. Jiddy. Fill. Ally. Loo," but never "Lee!"
until we are reduced to the very last extremity, and are in the midst of difficulties,
extrication from which appears tolte all but impossible.

And so we do the ten miles or thereabouts in two hours and a half; breaking
no bones, though bruising a great manv ; and in short getting through the distance,
"like a fiddle."

This singular kind of coaching terminates ai Fredcricksburgh, whence thci? is
a railway to Richmond. The tract of countr\- through which it takes its course
was once productive ; but the scnl has been exhausted by the system of employing
a great amount of slave labour in forcing crops, without strengthening the land ;
and it is now little better than a sandy de^^ert ovcrgiown with trees. Dreaiy and
uninteresting as its aspect is, I was glad to the heart to find anything on which
one of the curses of this horrible institution has fallen ; and had greater pleasure
in contemplating the withered ground, than the richest and most thriving cultiva-
tion in the same place could possibly have afforded me.

In this district, as in all others where slavery sits brooding, (I have frequently
heard this admitted, even by those who are its warmest advocates :) there is an air
of ruin and decay abroad, which is inseparable from the system. The barns and
outhouses are mouldering awuv : the sheds are patched and half roofless ; the log
cabins (built in Virgima with e..;enial chimneys made of clay or wood) are sc|ualid
in the last degree. There is no look of decent comfort anywhere. The miserable
stations by the railway side ; the great wild wood-yards, whence the engine is
*«up]-»lied with fuel ; the neg^o children rolling on the ground before the cabin
door>., with dogs and pigs : the biped beasts of burden slinking past : gloom and
dejection are upon them all.
In the negro car belonging to the train in which we made this ioumey, were a

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I

80

Atnerican Notes.

mother and her children who had just been purchased ; the husband and fatlici
being; left behind with their old owner. The children cried the whole way, ayd
the mother was miseiy's ])icturc. The chami)i()n of J.ife, J.iberty, and the I'ursuil
of Happiness, wlio had bouj^ht them, rode in tiie same train ; and, every time wo
stoppe<l, ^M)t down to see tli.it they were safe. The black in Sinbad's Travels with
one eye in the middle of his forehead which shone like aburninj; coal, was nature's
aristocrat comparetl with this white <,'enlleman.

It was between six and seven o'clock in the evening, Mhen we drove to tlic
hotel : in front of which, and on the top of the broad flight of steps leading to the
door, two or three citi/cns were balancing themselves on rockiug-chaiis, and
.smoking cigars. AVc found it a veiy large and elegant establishment, and were a.s
well entertained as travellers ncctl desire to be. The climate being a thirsty one,
there was never, at any hour of the day, a scarcity of loungers in the sjiacious bar,
or a cessation of the mixing of cool ]i(iuors : but they were a merrier people here,
and had musical instrinnents playing to them o' nights, mIucIi it was a treat to
hear again.

The nex day, and the next, wc rode and walked about the town, which is
<lelightfully situated on eight hills, overhanging James River ; a sparkling stream,
studded here and theie with bright islands, or brawling over broken rocks.
Although it was yet but the middle of March, the weather in this southern tempera-
ture was extremely warm ; the ]-)cach-trecs and magnolias were in full bloom ; and
the trees were green. In a low ground among the hills, is a valley known as
"Bloody Run," from a terrible conflict with the Indians which once occurred
there. It is a good place for such a struggle, and, like every other spot I saw
associated with any legend of that wild people now so rapidly fading from the
oarlh, interested me very nnich.

The city is the seat of the local parliament of Virginia ; and in its shady legis-
lative halls, some orators were drowsily holding forth to the hot noon day. By
dint of constant repetition, however, these constitutional sights had very little more
interest for me than so many parochial vestries ; and I was glad to exchange this
one for a lounge in a well-arranged public libraiy of some ten thousand volumes,
and a visit to a tobacco manufactory, where the workmen were all slaves.

I saw in this j)la •( the whole jMocess of picking, rolling, pressing, diying,
packing in casks, and branding. All the tobacco thus dealt with, was in course of
manufacture for chewing ; and one would have supposed there was enough in that
one storehouse to have lillcd even the comjirchensive jaws of America. In this
form, the weed looks like the oilcake on which we Hitten cattle ; and even without
reference to its consequences, is sufficiently uninviting.

Many of the workmen appeared to be strong men, and it is hardly necessary to
add that they were all labouring quietly, then. After two o'clock in the day, they
are allowed to sing, a certain number at a time. The hour striking while I was
there, some twenty sang a hymn in parts, and sang it by no means ill ; pursuing
iheir work meanwhile. A bell rang as I was about to leave, and they all poured
forth into a building on the opposite side of the street to dinner. I said several
times that I should like to see them at their meal ; but as the gentleman to whom
I mentioned this desire appeared to be suddenly taken rather deaf, I did not pursue
the request. Of their api")earailce I shall have something to say, presently.

On the following day, I visited a plantation or farm, of about twelve hundred
acres, on the opposite bank of the river. Here again, although I went down with
the OAvner of the estate, to ** the quarter," as that part of it in which the slaves live is
called, I was not invited to enter into any of their huts. All I saw of them, was, that
they were very crazy, wretched cabins, near to which groups of half-naked children
basked in the sun, or wallowed on the dusty ground. But I believe that this gentle-

Mk

Nemesis impending.

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I? drove to die

'i-adin/; to 1!^.

i.;:-fliaiis, and

,and Were ai

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c spacious l)ar,

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was a treat to

own, Mliicli is
irlvliii;^' .stream,
broken rocks,
theru tempera-
dl bloom ; an(l
lley known as
once occurred
cr spot I saw
iing from tlie

ts shady legis-
loon day. By
ery little more
exchange this
sand volumes,
ives.

ssing, diyinj^,
IS in course o(
nough in that
irica. In this
even M-itliout

' necessary to
the day, thev
? wliile I Avas
ill ; pursuing
iy all poured
said several
nan to whom
d not pursue
ently,

jlve hundred
It down with
slaves live is
m^ was, that
ked children
t this gentle-

-

man is a considerate and excellent master, who inherited his fifty slaves, and is
neither a buyer nor a seller of human stock ; and I am sure, from my own obseiA'a-
tion and conviction, that he is a kind-hearted, worthy man.

The jilanler's house was an aiiy rustic tlwelling, that brought Defoe's description
of such i)laces strongly to my recollection. 1'he tlay was very warm, but the blinds
being all closed, and the windows and doors set wide oj)en, a shady coolness
rustled through the rooms, which was cxciuisilcly refreshing after the glare and
heat without. Jiefore the windows was an oper piazza, M-hcrc, in what they call
the hot weather — whatever that may be — they sling hammocks, and drink and doze
luxuriously. 1 do not know how their cool refections may taste within the ham-
mocks, but, having exi)erience, I can report that, out of them, the mounds of ices
and the bowls of mint-julep and sherry-cobbler they make in these latitudes, are
refreshments never to be thought of aftenvartls, in summer, by those who would
preserve contented minds.

There are two bridges across the river : one belongs to the railroad, and the
other, which is a very crazy afVair, is the private j)roj:)erty of some old lady in the
neighbourhood, who levies tolls upon the townspeoj^le. Crossing this bridge, on
my way back, L saw a notice painted on the gate, cautioning all persons to drive
slowly : under a penalty, if the offender were a white man, of live dollars ; if a
negro, fifteen stripes.

The same decay and gloom that overhang the way tjy which it is approached,
hover above the town of J<.ichmond. There are pretty villas and cheerful houses
in its streets, and Nature smiles upon the country round ; but jostling its handsome
residences, like slavery itself going hand in hand with many lofty virtues, are
deplorable tenements, fences unrepo.ired, walls crumbling into ruinous heaps.
Hinting gloomily at things below the surface, these, and many other tokens of the
same description, force themselves upon the notice, and arc remembered with
dejircssing inlhience, when livelier features are forgotten.

To those who are hapi)ily unaccustomed to tliem, the countenances in the streets
and labouring-places, too, are shocking. All men who know that there are laws
against instructmg slaves, of which the pains and penalties greatly exceed in their
amount the fines imposecl on those wlio maim and torture them, must be prepared
to find their faces very low in the scale of intellectual expression. Jkil the darkness
— not of skin, but mind — which meets the stranger's eye at every turn ; the
brutalizing and blotting out of all fairer characters traced by Nature's hand ;
immeasurably outdo his worst b( lief. That travelleil creation of the great satirist's
brain, who fresh from living among horses, peered from a high casement down
upon his own kind with trembling horror, was scarcely more repelled and daunted
by the sight, than those who look upon some of these faces for the first time must
surely be.

I left the last of them behind me in the person of a wretched drudge, who, after
running to and fro all day till midnight, and moi)ing in his stealthy winks of sleep
upon the stairs between whiles, was washing the dark passages at four o'clock in
the morning; and wen. upon my way ^vith a grateful heart t.,at I was not doomed
to live where slavery '.v'as, and had ne\er had my senses blunted to its wrongs and
horrors in a slave-rocked cradle.

It had been my intention to proceed by James River and Chesapeake Bay to
Baltimore ; but one of the steam-boats being absent from her station through
some accident, and the means of conveyance being consequently rendered uncer-
tain, we returned to Washington by the way we had come (there were two con-
stables on board the steam-boat, in pursuit of runaway slaves), and halting there
again for one night, went on to Baltimore next afternoon.

The most comfortable of all the hotels of which I had any.expeiience in the

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Jmerican Notes,

United States, and they were not a few, is Barnum's, in that city : where the
Enj,flish traveller will find curtains to his bed, for the first and probably tlic la.->(
lime in Am< rica (this is a disinteie>ted remark, for I never n-t' them) ; and wheif
lie will be likely lo liave enouj^h water for washin;; himsell, wiiich is not at all ;i
common case.

This eapital of tlic state of Maiyhind is a busthni,' busy town, with a {rrcat deal
Tjftrallic oi vaiious kinds, and in particidar of water commerce. That jioition ol
llic town MJiieh it most favours is none of the cleanest, it i > true ; but the U]i|)ci
part ;s of a very diflerent character, and has many a^'reeable streets and pul)lic
builchnj^s. The Washini^ton Monument, which is a liand.^ome pillar with a >tatut
on its summit ; the Medical Collej^^e ; and the Jjallle Alonum. lU in memory of an
cn{,'a{,'emenl with the Brilish at North I'oint ; are the most conspicuous anionc,'
them.

There is a very f;ood prison in this city, and the State Penitentiary is also amon^
its institutions. In this latter establishment there were two curious ca'-es.

One, was that of a youn<j man, who had been tried for the murder of his father.
The evidence was entirely circumstantial, and was very conllictin*,,' and doubtful ;
nor was it possible to assij^u any motive which could have templed him to the
commission of so trememlous a crime. I le had been tried twice ; and on the
second occasion the jury felt so much hesitation in conviclinj,,' him, that they found
a verdict of manslau;.;hter, or murder in the second dej^ree ; Avhich it could not
possibly be, as there had, beyond all doubt, been no cjuarrel or provocation, and
if he were j^juilty at all, he was unquestionably ^aiilty of murder in its broadest and
worst si;;nilicalion.

The remarkable feature in the case was, that if the unfortunate deceased Avere
not really murdered by this own son of his, he must have been murdered by his
own brother. Tiic evidence lay in a most remarkable manner, between those
two. On all the susi)icious points, the dead man's brother was the witness : all
the explanations for the prisoner (some of them extiemely plausible) went, by
construction and inference, to inculcate him as jdottin},,' to tix the guilt upon his
nephew. It must have been one of them ; and the jury had to decide between two
sets of suspicions, almost equally unnatural, unaccountable, and strange.

The other case, was that of a man who once went to a certain distiller's and
stole a copper measure containing a quantity of liquor. He was pursued and taken
with the i)roperty in his possession, and was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.
On coming out of tlie jail, at the expiration of that term, he went back to the same
distiller's, and stole the same copper measure containing the same quantity oi'
liquor. There was not the slightest reason to suppose that the man wi^ Med to
return to prison : indeed everything, but the commission of the olfence, made
directly against that assumption. There are only two ways of accounting for this
extraordinary proceeding. One is, that aft^'- undergoing so much for this copper
measure he conceived he had established a sort of claim and right to it. The other
that, by dint of long thinking about, it had become a monomania with him, and
had acquired a fascination which he found it impossible to resist : swelling from
an Earthly Copper Gallon into an Ethereal Golden Vat.

After remaining here a couple of days I bound myself to a rigid adherence to
the plan I had laid down so recently, and resolved to set forward on our western
journey without any more delay. Accordingly, having reduced the luggage within
the smallest possible compass (by sending back to New York, to be afterwards
forwarded to us in Canada, so much of it as was not absolutely wanted) ; and having
procured the necessar}^ credentials to banking-houses on the way ; and having
moreover looked for two evenings at the setting sun, with as well-defined an idea
of the country before us as if we had been going to travel into the veiy centre of

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city: where tli,-
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or of his fatlui .
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vith him, and
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adherence to
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iggage within
be afterwards
; and having ■
and having '
fined an idea '
ery centre of ;

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that planet ; we left Baltimore by another railway at half-past eight in the moming,
and reached the town of York, some sixty nules oil", by he early dinucr-time of
the Hotel which was tlu" starling-place of the four-horse coach, wherein we were
to proceed to iiarrisi)urj,'.

Thisconvi vance, the box of which T was fortunate enouj/h to secure, had come
down to meet us at the railroad slaiion, and was as nuuldy ami cund)crsome as
usual. As more passengers were waiting for us at the inn-door, the coachman
observed under his breath, in tlie usual self-communicative voice, looking the
while at his mouldy harness as if it were to that he was addressing himself,

" 1 expect we shall want the Z^/;'- coach."

I could not help wondering within mysell what the si/e of this big coach might
be, and how many persons it might l)e ilcsi^mcd to hold ; for the vehicle which was
loo small for our purpose was somelhinj,' larger than two Knglish heavy night
coaches, and might have been the twin-brother of a French Diligence. My specu-
lations were speedily set at rest, however, for as soon as we had dined, there came
rumbling u|) the street, shaking its sides like a corpulent giant, a kind of barjje on
wheels. After much blundering and backing, it slopped at the door : rolling
heavily from side to side when its other motion had ceased, as if it had taken cold
in its damp stable, and between that, and the having,' been rctpiired in its dropsical
old age to move at any faster pace than a walk, were distre ..^etl by shortness of
wind.

" If here ain't the Ilarrisburg mail at last, and dreadful bright and smart to look
at too," cried an elderly gentleman in some excitemenl, "darn my mother ! "

I don't know what '.he sensation (jf being darned may be, or whether a man's
mother has a keener relish or disrelish of the process than anybody else ; but if
the emlurance of this mysterious ceremony by the old lady in (luestion had de-
pended on the accuracy of her son's visicjn in respect to the abstract brightness and
smartness of the Ilarrisburg mail, she would certainly have undergone its inlliction.
However, they boolced twelve people inside ; and the luggage (including such
trifles as a large rocking-chair, and a good-sized dining- table) being at length made
fast upon the roof, we startcfl ofl' in great state.

At the door of another hotel, there was another passenger to be taken up.

" Any room, sir ?" erics the new passenger to the coachman.

"Well there's room enough," replies the coachman, without getting down, or
even looking at him.

"There an't no room at all, sir," bawls a gentleman inside. Wliich another gen-
tleman (also inside) confirms, l)y predicting that the attempt to introduce anv r.-.oie
passengers "won't fit nohow."

Th., new passenger, without any expression of anxiety, looks into the eoaen, and
then looks up at the coachman : "Now, how do you mean to fix it.'"' says he,
after a pause : " for I mtist go."

The coachman employs himself in twisting the lash of his whip into a knot, and
takes no more notice of the question : clearly signifying that it is anybody's busi-
ness but his, and that the passengers would do well to fix it, among themselves.
In this state of things, matters seem to be apinoximating to a fix of another kind,
when another inside passenger in a corner, who is nearly suffocated, cries faintly,
" I'll get out."

This is no matter of relief or sclf-congiatulation to the driver, for his immoveable
philosophy is perfectly undisturbed by anything that happens in the cor.jh. Of all
things in the world, the coach would seem to be the very last upon his mind. The
exchange is made, however, and then the passenger who has given up his seat
makes a third upon the box, seating himself in what he calls the middle ; that is,
with half his person on my legs, and the other half on the driver's.

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American Notes.

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** Go a-head, cap'en," cries the colonel, who directs.

" G6-lang ! " cries the cap'en to his company, the horses, and away we go.

We took up at a rural bar-room, after we had gone a few miles, an intoxicated
gentleman who climbed upon the roof among the lugj^age, and subsequently
slipping off without hurting himself, was seen in the distant perspective reeling
bacK to the grog-shop where we had found him. We also parted with more of our
freight at different times, so that when wc came to change horses, I was again
alone outside.

The coachmen always change with the horses, and are usually as dirty as the
ccach. The first was dressed like a very shabby English baker ; the second like
a Russian peasant : for he wore a loose purple camlet robe, with a fur collar, tied
round his waist with a parti-coloured worsted sash ; grey trousers ; light blue gloves:
and a cap of bearskin. It had by this time come on to rain very heavily, and thcic
was a cold damp mist besides, which penetrated to the skin. I was glad to take
advantage of a stoppage and get down to stretch my legs, shake the water off my
great-coat, and swallow the usual anti-temperance recipe for keeping out the cold.

AVhen I mounted to my seat again, I observed a new parcel lying on the coacli
roof, which I took to be a rather large fiddle in a brown bag. In the course of a
few miles, however, I discovered that it had a gla.^ed cap at one end and a pair of
muddy shoes at the other ; and further observation demonstrated it to be a small
boy in a snuff-coloured coat, with his arms quite pinioned to his sides, by deep
forcing into his pockets. He was, I presume, a relative or friend of the coachman' >-,
as he lay a-top of the luggage with his face towards the rain ; and except when a
change of position brought his shoes in contact with my hat, he appeared to be
asleep. At last, on some occasion of our stopping, this thing slowly upreared itself
to the height of three feet six, and fixing its eyes on me, obser\'ed in piping ac-
cents, with a complaisant yawn, half quenched in an obliging air of friendly patron-
age, ** Well now, stranger, I guess you find this a'most like an English artemoon,
hey } "

The sceneiy which had been tame enough at first, was, for the last ten or twelve
miles, beautiful. Our road wound through the pleasant valley of the Susque-
hanna ; the river, dotted with innumerable green islands, lay upon our right ; and
on the left, a steep ascent, craggy with broken rock, and dark with pine trees.
The mist, wreathing itself into a hundred fantastic shapes, moved solemnly upoii ,
the water ; and the gloom of evening gave to all an air of mystery and silence
which greatly enhanced its natural interest.

We crossed this river by a wooden bridge, roofed and covered in on all sides,
and nearly a mile in length. It was profoundly dark ; perplexed, with great beams,
crossing and recrossing it at every possible angle ; and through the broad chinks
and crevices in the floor, the rapid river gleamed, far down below, like a legion of
eyes. We had no lamps ; and as the horses stumbled and floundered through this
place, towards the distant speck of dying light, it seemed interminable. I really
could not at first persuade myself as we rumbled heavily on, filing the bridge with
hollow noises, and I held down my head to save it from the rafters above, but that
I was in a painful dream ; for I have often dreamed of toiling through such places,
and as often argued, even at the time, ** this cannoi be reality."

At length, however, we emerged upon the streets of Harrisburg, whose feeble
lights, reflected dismally from the wet ground, did not shine out upon a very
cheerful city. We were soon established in a snug hotel, which though smaller
and far less splendid than many we put up at, is raised above them all in my re-
membrance, by having for its landlord the most obliging, considerate, and gentle-
manly person I ever h ad to dea! with.

As we were not to proceed upon our journey until the afternoon, I walked out.

1

A Canal Boat,

cs

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after breakfast the next morning, to look about me ; and was duly shown a model
prison on the solitary system, just erected, and as yet without an inmate ; the
trunk of an old tree to which Harris, the first settler here (afterwards buried under
it), was tied by hostile Indians, with his funeral pile about him, when he was saved
by the timely appearance of a friendly party on the opposite shore of the river ; the
local legislature (for there was another of those bodies here again, in full debate) ;
and the other curiosities of the town.

I was very much interested in looking over a number of treaties made from time
to time with the poor Indians, signed by the different chiefs at the period of their
fatification, and preserved in the office of the Secretary to the Commonwealth.
These signatures, traced of course by their own hands, are rough drawings of the
creatures or wenj^ons they were called after. Thus, the Great Turtle makes a
crooked pen-apd-ink outline of a great turtle ; the Buffalo sketches a buffalo ; the
AV'ar Hatchet sets a rougli image of that weapon for his mark. So with the
Arrow, the Fish, the Scalp, the Big Canoe, and all of them.

I could not but think — as I looked at these feeble and tremulous productions of
hands which could draw the longest anow to the head in a stout elk-horn bow, or
split a bead or feather .*ith a rifle-ball — of Crabbe's musings over the Parish
Register, and the irregular scratches made with a pen, by men who would plough
a lengthy furrow straight from end to end. Nor could I help bestowing many
sorrowful thoughts upon the simple warriors whose hands and hearts were set
there, in all truth and honesty : and who only learned in course of time from
white men how to break their faith, and quibble out of forms and bonds. I won-
dered, too, how many times the credulous Big Turtle, or trusting Little Hatchet,
had put his mark to treaties which were falsely read to him ; and had signed
away, he knew not what, until it went nnd cast him loose upon the new possessors
of the land, a savage indeed.

Our host announced, before our early dinner, that some members of the legis-
lative body proposed to do us the honour of calling. He had kindly yielded
up to us his wife's own little parlour, and when I begged that he would show
them in, I saw him look with painful apprehension at its pretty carpet ; though,
being otherwise occupied at the time, the cause of his uneasiness did not occur
to me.

It certainly would have been more pleasa..' to all parties concerned, and would
not, I think, have compromised their independence in any material degree, if
some of these gentlemen had not only yielded to the prejudice in favour of spit-
toons, but had abandoned themselves, for the moment, even to the conventional
absurdity of pocket-handkerchiefs.

It still continued to rain heavily, and when we went down to the Canal Boat
(for that was the mode of conveyance by which we were to proceed) after dinner,
the weather was as unpromising and obstinately wet as one would desire to see.
Nor was the sight of this canal boat, in which we were to spend three or four
days, by any means a cheerful one ; as it involved some uneasy speculations con-
cerning the disposal of the passengers at night, and opened a wide field of inquiry
touching the other domestic arrangements of the establishment, which was suffi-
ciently disconcerting.

However, there it was — a barge with a little house in it, viewed from the out-
side ; and a caravan at a fair, viewed from within : the gentlemen being accommo-
dated, as the spectators usually are, in one of those locomotive museums of penny
wonders ; and the ladies being partitioned off by a red curtain, after the manner
(/ the dwarfs and giants in the same establishments, whose private lives are passed
in rather clo^e exclusiveness.

We sat here, looking silently at the row of little tables, which extended down

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American Notes.

both sides of the cabin, and listening to the rain as it dripped and pattered on the
boat, and plashed uith a dismal merriment in the water, until the arrival of the
railway train, for whose final contribution to our stock of passengers, our depar-
ture was alone defierrcd. It brought a great many boxes, which Mere bumped and
tossed upon the roof, almost as painfully as if they had been deposited on one's
own head, without the intervention of a porter's knot ; and several damp gen-
tlemen, whose clothes, on their drawing round the stove, began to steam again.
No doubt it would have been a thought more comfortable if the driving rain,
which now poured down more soakingly than ever, had admitted of a window-
being opened, or if our number had been something less than thirty ; but there
was scarcely time to think as much, when a train of three horses was attached to
the tow-rope, the boy upon the leader smacked his whip, the rudder creaked and
groaned complainingly, and we had begun our journey. ,

CHAPTER X.

SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE CANAL BOAT, ITS DOMESTIC ECONOMY,
AND ITS PASSENGERS. JOURNEY TO I'lTTSBURG ACROSS THE ALLEGHANY
MOUNTAINS. PITTSBURG.

As it continued to rain most pcrseveringly, w^ all remained below : the damp
gentlemen round the stove, gi^adually becoming mildewed by the action of the fire ;
and the dry gentlemen lying at full length upon the seats, or slumbering uneasily
with their faces on the tables, or walking up and douTi the cabin, which it was
barely possible for a man of the middle height to do, without making bald places
on his head by scraping it against the roof. At about six o'clock, all the small
tables were put together to form one long tal)le, and everybody sat down to tea,
coffee, bread, butter, saimon, shad, liver, steaks, potatoes, pickles, ham, chops,
black puddings, and sausages.

"Will you tiy," said my opposite neighbour, handing me a dish of potatoes,
broken up in miik and butter, " will you try some of these fixings ? "

There are few words which perform such various duties as this word " fix." It
is the Caleb Quotem of the American vocabulary. You call upon a gentleman in
a country town, and his help informs you that he is " fixing himself" just now, but
will be down directly : by which you are to understand that he is dressing. You
inquire, on board a steamboat, of a fellow-passenger, whether breakfast will be
ready soon, and he tells you he should think sO, for when he was last below, they
were *' fixing the tables : " in other words, laying the cloth. You beg a porter to
collect your luggage, and he entreats you not to be uneasy, for he'll " fix it pre-
sently : " and if you complain of indisposition, you are advised to have recourse to
Doctor so and so, who will " fix you " in no time.

One night, I ordered a bottle of mulled wine at an hotel where I was staying,
and waited a long time for it ; at length it was put upon the table with an apolog}'
from the landlord that he learcd it wasn't "fixed properly." And I recollect once,
at a stage-coach dinner, overhearing a very stem gentleman- demand of a waiter
M'ho presented him with a plate of underdone roast-beef, " whether he called that,
fixing God A'mighty's vittles ? "

There is no doubt that the meal, at which the invitation was tendered to me
which has occasioned this digression, was disposed of somewhat ravenously ; and
that the gentlemen thrust the broad-bladed knives and the two-psonged forks
further down their throats than I ever saw the same weapons go, before, except in

In sight of the hills.

87

the hands of a skilful jugf^ler : but no man sat clown until the ladies w ere seated ;
or omitted anv little act of politeness which could contribute to their comfort. Nor
did I ever once, on any occasion, anywhere, during my rambles in America, sec a
woman exposed to the slightest act of rudeness, incivility, or even inattention.'

By the time the meal was over, the rain, which seemeil to have worn itself out
by coming down so fast, was nearly over too ; and it J?ecame feasible to go on
deck : which was a great relief, notwithstanding its being a very small deck, and
being rendered still smaller by the luggage, which was heaped together in the
middle under a tarpaulin covering ; leaving, on either side, a f)ath so narrow, that
it became a science to walk to and fro without tumbling overboard into the canal.
It was somewhat embarrassing at first, too, to have to duck nimbly every five
minutes whenever the man at the helm cried " Bridge ! " and sometimes, when the
cr}- was " J.ow Bridge," to lie down nearly flat. But custom familiarises one to
anything, and there were so many bridges that it took a very short time to get used
to this.

As night came on, and we drew in sight of the first range of hills, which are the
outposts of the Alleghany Mountains, the scenery, which had been uninteresting
hitherto, became more bold and striking. The wet ground reeked and smoked,
after the heavy fall of rain ; and the croaking of the frogs (whose noise in these
parts is almost incredible) sounded as though a million of fairy teams with bells,
were travelling through the air, and keeping pace with us. The night Avas cloudy
yet, but moonlight too : and when we crossed the Susquehanna river — over M'hich
there is an extraordinary wooden bridge with two galleries, one above the other,
so that even there, two boat teams meeting, may pass without confusion — it was
wild and grand.

I have mentioned my having been in some uncertainty and doubt, at first, rela-
tive to the sleeping arrangements on board this boat. I remained in the same
vague state of mind until ten o'clock or thereabouts, when going beloAV, I found
suspended on either side of the cabin, three long tiers of hanging book-shelves,
designed apparently for volumes of the small octavo size. Looking with greater
attention at these contrivances (wondering to find such literaiy prepaiations in
such a place), I descried on each shelf a sort of microscopic sheet and blanket;
then I began dimly to comprehend that the passengers were the library, and that
they were to be arranged, edge-wise, on these shelves, till morning.

I was assisted to this conclusion by seeing some of them gathered round the
master of the boat, at one of the tables, drawing lots with all the anxieties and
passions of gamesters depicted in their countenances ; while others, with small
pieces of cardboard in their hands, were groping among the shelves in search of
numbers corresponding with those. they had drawn. As soon as any gentleman
found his number, he took possession of it by immediately undressing himself and
crawling into bed. The rapidity with which an agitated gambler subsided into a
snoring slumberer, was one of the most singular effects I have ever witnessed. As
to the ladies, they were already abed, behind the red curtain, which was carefully
drawn and pinned up the centre ; though as every cough, or sneeze, or whisper,
behind this curtain, was perfectly audible before it, we had still a lively conscious-
ness of their society.

The politeness of the person in authority had secured to me a shelf in a nook
near this red curtain, in some degree removed from the great body of sleepers : to
which place I retired, with many acknowledgments to him for his attention. I
found it, on after-measurement, just the width of an ordinary sheet of Bath post
letter-paper ; and I was at first in some uncertainty as to the best means of getting
into it. But. the shelf being a bottom one, I finally determined on lying upon the
oor, rolling gently in, stopping immediately I touched the mattress, and remain-

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88

American Notes.

ing for the night with that side uppermost, whatever it might be. Luckily, I canic
upon my back at exactly the right moment. I was much alarmed on lookinj,'
Uj)\vard, to see, by the shape of his half yard of sacking (which his weight had
bent into an exceedingly tight bag), that there was a very heavy gentleman above
me, whom the slender cords seemed (piite incapable of holding ; and I could not
help reflecting upon the^grief of my wife and family in the event of his coming
down in the niglii. But as I could not have got up again without a severe bodily
struggle, which might have alarmed the ladies ; and as I had nowhere to go to,
even if I had ; I shut my eyes upon the danger, and remained there.

One of two remarkable circumstances is indisputably a fact, with reference to
that class of society who travel in these boats. Either they carry their restlessness
to such a pitch that they never sleep at all ; or they expectorate in dreams, which
would be a remarkable mingling of the real and ideal. All night long, and every
night, on this canal, there was a perfect storm and tempest of spitting ; and once
my coat, being in the very centre of the hurricane sustained by five gentlemen
(which moved vertically, strictly carrying out Reid's Theory of the Law of Stormsi,
I was fain the next morning to lay it on the deck, and rub it down with faii-
water before it was in a condition to be worn again.

Between live and six o'clock in the morning we got up, and some of us went on
deck, to give theiri an oi")portunity of taking the shelves down ; while others, the
morning l)cing very cold, crowded round the rusty stove, cherishing the newly
kindled fire, and filling the grate with those voluntaiy contributions of which they
had been so liberal all night. The washing accommodations were primitive.
There was a tin ladle chained to the deck, with which every gentleman who
thought it necessaiy to cleanse himself (many were superior to this weakness),
fished the dirty water out of the canal, and poured it into a tin basin, secured in
like manner. There was also a jack-toweh And, hanging up before a little
looking-glass in the bar, in the immediate vicinity of the bread and cheese and
biscuits, were a public comb and hair-brush.

At eight o'clock, the shelves being taken down and put away and the tables
joined together, everybody sat down to the tea, dolfee, bread, butter, salmon,
shad, liver, steak, i:iotatoes, pickles, ham, chops, black-puddings, and sausages, all
over again. Some were fond of compounding this variety, and having it all on
their plates at once. As each gentleman got through his own personal amount
of tea, coffee, bread, butter, salmon, shad, liver, steak, potatoes, pickles, ham,
chops, black-puddings, and sausages, he rose up and walked off. When every-
body had done with everything, the fragments were cleared away : and one of the
waiters appearing anew in the character of a barber, shaved such of the company
as desired to be shaved ; while the remainder looked on, or yawned over their
newspapers. Dinner was breakfast again, without the tea and coffee ; and supper
and breakfast were identical.

There was a man on board this boat, with a light fresh-coloiired face, and a
pepper-and-salt suit of clothes, who was the most inquisitive fellow that can pos-
sibly be imagined. He never spoke otherwise than interrogatively. He was an
embodied inquiry. Sitting down or standing up, still or moving, walking the
deck or taking his meals, there he was, with a great note of interrogation in each
eye, two in his cocked ears, two more in his turned-up nose and chin, at least
half a dozen more about the comers of his mouth, and the largest one of all in
his hair, which was brushed pertly off his forehead in a flaxen clump. Every
button in his clothcks said, "Eh.? What's that? Did you speak.'' Say that
again, will you?" He was always wide awake, like the enchanted bride who
drove her husband frantic ; always restless ; always thirsting for answers ; per-
petually seeking and never finding. There never was such a curious man.

Odd Specimens.

89

■'»

;■

I wore a fur great-coat at that time, and before we were well clear of the -svharf,
he fiucstioned me concerning it, and its price, and where I bought it, and when,
and what fur it was, and what it weighed, and what it cost. Then he tf)ok notice
of my watch, and askeii me what that cost, and whether it was a French watch,
and where 1 got it, and how I got it, and whether I bought it or had it given me,
and how it went, and where the key-liole was, ami when 1 wound it, every night
or every morning, and whether I ever forgot to wind it at all, and if I did, what
then ? Where had I been to last, and where was I going next, and whce was I
going after that, and had I seen the President, and what did he say, and what did
1 say, and what did he say when I had said that ? Kh ? Lol^iow ! do tell !

I'inding that nothing would satisfy him, 1 evaded his (juestions after the fust
score or two, and in particular pleaded ignorance respecting the name of the fur
whereof the coat was made. I am unable to say whether this was the reason, but
that coat fascinatetl him afterwards ; he usually kept close behind me as I walked,
and moved as I moved, that he might look at it the better ; and he frequently
dived into narrow j^laces after me at the risk of his life, that he might have the
satisfixction of passing his hand up the back, and rubbing it the wrong way.

"We had another odd specimen on board, of a different kind. This was a thin-
faced, si)are-ligured man of middle age and stature, dressed in a dusty drabbish-
coloured suit, such as I never saw before, lie was perfectly quiet during the first
part of the journey : indeed I don't remember having so much as seen him until
he was brcuglit out by circumstances, as great men often are. The conjunction
of events which made him famous, happened, briefly, thus.

Tho ."p.nal extends to the foot of the mountain, and there, of course, it stops ;
the /asscngers being conveyed across it by land carriage, and taken on afterwards
by r.nother canal-boat, the counterpart of the first, which awaits them on the other
s'de. There are two canal lines of p.issage-boats ; one is called The Express, and
one (a cheaper one) The Pioneer. The Pioneer gets first to the mountain, and
waits for the Express pcojile to come up ; both sets of passengers being conveyed
across it at the same time. We were the Express company ; but when we had
crossed the mountain, and had come to the second boat, the proprietors took it
into their heads to draft all the Pioneers into it likewise, so that we were five-and-
forty at least, and the accession of passengers was not at all of that kind which
improved the prospect of sleeping at night. Our people gi-umbled at this, as
people do in such cases ; but suffered the boat to be towed off with the whole
freight aboard nevertheless ; and away we went down the canal. At home, I
should have protested lustily, but being a foreigner here, I held my peace.
Not so this passenger. He cleft a path among the people on deck (we were
nearly all on deck), and without addressing anybody whomsoever, soliloquised as
follows :

"This may %\x\iyou, this may, but it don't suit mc. This may be all very well
with Down Easters, and men of Boston raising, but it won't suit my figure no
how; and no two ways about that; and so I tell you. Now! I'm from the
brown forests of the ;^Iississippi, / am, and when the sun shines on me, it does
shine— a little. It don't glimmer where /live, the sun don't. No. I'm a brown
forester, I am. I an't a Johnny Cake. There are no smooth skins where I live.
We're rough men there. Rather. If Down Easters and men of Boston raising
like this, I'm glad of it, but I'm none of that raising nor of that breed. No.
This company wants a little fixing, it does. I'm the wrong sort of man for 'em,
/am. They won't like me, they won't. This is piling of it up, a little too motln-
tainotts, this is." At the end of every ong of these short sentences he turned
upon his heel, and walked the other way ; checking himself abruptly when he
had finished another short sentence, and turning back again.

90

American Notes,

^•1 .

i-'ii *^ i

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Pi in

It is impossible for mc to say what terrific meaning was hidden in the words of
this brown lorc-ilcr, but 1 know lli.il the other [)as.scngcrs looked on in a sort of
adniirin;j horror, and that presently the boat was put back to the wharf, antl as many
of the Pioneers as could be coa:.ed or bullietl into \io\x\\i away, were }^ot rid of.

When we started aj^ain, some of the boldest spirits on boanl, nuule bold to say
to the obvious oec.ision of this imj)rovenient in our prosjieets, •* Much objij^'cd to
you, sir ; " whereunto the brown forester (wavin;,' his hand, and still wa]kinj,Mip
and down a.-, before), replied, •' No you an't. You're ncme o' my raising. You
n>ay act for yourselves, ^v// may. 1 have pintcd out the way. Down Jtlustei-s and
Johnny Cakes can follow if they please. 1 an't a Johnny Cake, /an't. I am
from tile brown forests of the Mississippi, /am " — and so on, as before. He was
unanimously voted one of the tables tor his bed at nij^dit — there is a };reat contest
for the tables — in consideration for liis public services : and he had the warmest
corner by the stove throughout the rest of the journey. But I never could fmd
out that he did anything except sit there ; nor did I hear him sjieak again imtil, in
the midst of the bustle and turmoil of getting the luggage ashore in the dark at
Pittsburg, I stumbled over him as he sat smoking a cigar on the cabin steps, and
heard him muttering to himself, with a short laugh of defiance, ♦'! an't a johnny
Cake, /an't. I'm from the brown forests of the Mississippi, /am, damme ! " 1
am inclined to argue from this, that he had never left off saying so ; but I could
not make an athdavit of that part of the story, if required to do so by my Queen
and Country.

As we have not reached Pittsburg yet, however, in the order of our narrative,
I may go on to remark that breakfast was perhaps the least desirable meal of the
day, as in addition to the many savoury odours arising from the eatables already
mentioned, there were whiffs of gin,- whiskey, brandy, and rum, from the little
bar hard by, and a decided seasoning of stale tobacco. Many of the gentlemen
passengers were Hir from particular in respect of their linen, which was in some
cases as yellow as the little rivulets that had trickled from the comers of their
mouths in chewing, and dried there. Nor was the atmosphere quite free from
zephyr whisperings of the thirty beds which had just been cleared away, and of
which we were further and more pressingly reminded by the occasional appearance
on the table-cloth of a kind of Game, not mentioned in the Bill of Fare.

And yet despite these oddities — and even they had, for me at least, a humour
of their own — there was much in this mode of travelling which I heartily enjoyed
at the time, and look back upon with great pleasure. Even the running up, bare-
necked, at five o'clock in the morning, from the tainted cabin to the dirty deck ;
scooping up the icy water, plunging one's head into it, and drawing it out, all
fresh and glowing with the cold ; was a good thing. The fast, brisk walk upon
the towing-path, between that time and breakfast, when every vein and artery
seemed to tingle with health ; the exquisite beauty of the opening day, when
light came gleaming off from everj'thing ; the lazy motion of the boat, when one
lay idly on the deck, looking through, rather than at, the deep blue sky; the
gliding on at night, so noiselessly, past frowning hills, sullen with dark trees, and
sometimes angry in one red burning spot high up, where unseen men lay crouch-
ing round a fire ; the shining out of the bright stars undisturbed by noise of
wheels or steam, or any other sound than the limpid rippling of the water as the
boat went on : all these were pure delights.

Then there were new settlements and detached log-cabins and frame-houses,
full of interest for strangers from an old country : cabins with simple ovens, out-
side, made of clay ; and lodgings for the pigs nearly as good as many of the
human quarters ; broken windows, patched with worn-out hats, old clothes, old
boards, fragments of blankets and paper ; and home-made dressers standing in

I,

Across the AUegbanies*

9»-

the oj^n-air without the door, whereon was rnnj,'c(l the houseliolti store, not liard
to count, of earthen jars and pots. The eye wa-. j)ainetl to see the stumps of ^reat
trees thickly stiewn ni every field of wlieat, ard sehlom to h)se the cleinal swamp
and ihill morass, with liundreds of rotten trunks and twisteM bianelies stcpcd in
il> unwholesome water. It was (juite sad and oppressive, to con^.e iipcjii f^rtat
tracts where settlers had been buriiinj,' down the trees, and where their wounded
bodies lay .d)out, like those of murilercl creatures, while here and there sonio
charred and Idackened j^iant reared aloft two witheretl arms, and seemed to call
down curses on his f(jes. Sometimes, at nij^ht, the way wound throuj,'l: some
1 ni'iy t,""k'*-'' '''^^' '^ mountain pass in Scotl.md, shininj:^ and coMly ^dilterinj^
in the lij^ht of the moon, and so closeil in by hij^h steep hills all round, that there
seemed to be no egress save thr(juj,di the narrower path by which we had come,
until one ruj^'^'ed hill-side seemed to open, and shuttinj,' out the moon-li^^ht as we
passed into its j^loonjy throat, wrapped our new course in shade and darkness.

We had left ilarrisburj,' on I'riday. On Simday morning we arrived at the
foot of the mountain, which is crossed by railroad. There are ten inclineil j)lanes;
five f/scendiny;, and live (/t»scendin{,' ; the carriages are dragged up the former, and
let slowly down the latter, by means of stationary engines ; the comi)aratively
level spaces between, being traversed, sometimes by horse, and sometimes by
engine power, as the case tiemands. Occasionally the rails are laid upon the
extreme verge of a giddy precipice ; and looking from the carriage window, the
traveller gazes sheer down, without a stone or scrap of fence between, into the
mountain dtplhs below. The journey is very carefully made, however ; only two
carriages '\iavelling together; and while proper precautions are taken, is not to
be dreaded for its dangers.

It was very pretty travelling thus, at a rajiid pace along the heights of the moun-
tain in a keen wind, to look down into a valley full of light and softness ; catch-
ing glimi)ses, through the tree-tops, of scattered cabins; children running to the
doors; dogs bursting out to bark, whom we could see without hearing; leuified
pigs scamjKMing homewards ; families sitting out in their rude gardens ; cows
gazing upward with a stupid indifference ; men in their shirt-sleeves looking on
at their unfinished houses, planning out to-morrow's work ; and we riding onward,
high above them, like a whirlwind. It was amusing, too, when we had dined,
and rattled down a steep pass, having no other moving power than the weight of
the carriages themselves, to see the engine released, long after us, come buzzing
down alone, like a great insect, its back of green and gold so shining in the sun,
that if it had spread a pair of wings and soared away, no one would have had
occasion, as I far cied, for the least surprise, but it stopped short of us in a very
business-like manner when we reached the canal : and, before we left the wharf,
went panting up this hill again, with the passengers who had waited our arrival
for the means of traversing the road by which we had come.

On the Monday evening, furnace fires and clanking hammers on the banks
of the canal, warned us that we approached the termination of this part of our
journey. After going through another dreamy place — a long aqueduct across the
Alleghany River, which was stranger than the bridge at Harrisburg, being a vast
• low wooden chamber full of water — we emerged upon that ugly confusion of backs
of buildings and crazy galleries and stairs, which always abuts on water, whether it
be river, sea, canal, or ditch : and were at Pittsburg.

Pittsburg is like Birmingham in England ; at least its townspeople say so.
Setting aside the streets, the shops, the houses, waggons, factories, public build-
ings, and population, perhaps it may be. It certainly has a great quantity of
smoke hanging about it, and is famous for its iron- works. Besides the prison to
which I have already referred, this town contains a pretty arsenal and other insti-

^v'ii^-

^

^

92

American Notes.

&'~

i|-tir:|

I. ! 1

I'l;

tutions. It is very beautifully situated on the Alleghany River, over which thev
arc two l)ri(lj,'es; and tlic villas of the weallhior citi/ens sprinkled about the hi^li
grounds in the neijjhbourhood, are pretty cnouj,'h. We lodged at a most excellent
hotel, and were admirably served. As usual it was full of boarders, was vcr^
larjTc, and had a broa<l cohnmade to every story of the house.

We tarried here, three days. Our nrxl point was Cincinnati : and as this was n
steam-boat journey, and western steam-boats usually blow up one or two a week in
the season, it was advisable to collect ojiinions in reference to the comparativt
safety of the vessels bound that way, then lyinj,' in the river. One called the Mes-
senj^er was the best recommended. She had l)ecn advertised to start positively,
every day for a fortnight or so, and had not gone yet, nor diil her captain seem to
have any veiy fixed intention on the subject, lint this is the custom : for if the
law were to bind down a free and independent citi/en to keep his word with tlu
pul)lic, what would become of the liberty of the subject ? Jksides, it is in the way
of trade. And if passengers be decoyed in the way of trade, and people be in-
convenienced in the way of trade, what man, who is a shaip tradesman himsell,
shall say " We must put a stop to this ? "

Impressed by the deep solemnity of the public announcement, I (being then
ignorant of these usages) was for hurrying on board in a breathless state, immc
(liately; but receiving private and confidential information that the boat would
certainly not start until Friday, April the First, we made ourselves very com for table
in the mean while, and went on board at noon that day.

CHAPTER XI.

FROM PITTSBURG TO CINCINNATI IN A WESTKRN STEAM-BOAT. CINCINNATI.

The Messenger was one among a crowd of high-pressure steam-boats, clustered
together by a wharf-side, which, looked down upon from the rising ground that
forms the landing-place, and backed by the lofty bank on the opposite side of the
river, appeared no larger than so many floating models. She had some forty

Eassengers on board, exclusive of the poorer persons on the lower deck ; and in
alf an hour, or less, proceeded on her way.

We had, for ourselves, a tiny state-room with two berths in it, opening out of
the ladies' cabin. There was, undoubtedly, something satisfactory in this " loca-
tion," inasmuch as it was in the stern, and we had been a great many times very
gravely recommended to keep as far aft as possible, " because the steam-boats
generally blew up fonvard." Nor was this an unnecessary caution, as the occur-
rence and circumstances of more than one such fatality during our stay sufficiently
testified. Apart from this source of self-congratulation, it was an unspeakable relief
to have any place, no matter how confined, where cne could be alone : and as the
row of little chambers of which this was one, had each a second glass-door besides
that in the ladies' cabin, which opened on a narrow gallery outside the vessel, where
the other passengers seldom came, and where one could sit in peace and gaze
upon th'e shifting prospect, we took possession of our new quarters "with much
pleasure.

If the nfitive packets I have already described be unlike anything we are in the
habit of seeing on water, these western vessels are still more foreign to all the
ideas we are accustomed to entertain of boats. I hardly know what to liken them
to, or how to describe them.

1^

On the weitern waters.

93

most excellent
Icrs, was vcn

CINCINNATI.

In the fir? place, they have no mast, cortlage, tackle, ri^KinK, or other such
boat-like j,'car; nor have they anythinj^ in their .sliai)e at all calculated to remiml
(MIC of a boat's head, stern, sides, or keel. l'"xcept that they are in the water, and
display a coupir of paddle-boxes, they mij,'ht be intended, for anything that
;ip|)ears to the conlr.iry, to perforin sonic unknown sen-ice, hij.;h and dr\', upon a
mountain top. There i.s no visible deck, even : nothing but a lon^', black, uj,'ly
roof, covereil with burnt-out fealhery sparks ; above which tower two iron chini-
iRys, and a hoarse escajK' valve, anil a ^,dass slcera^^'c-house. Then, in order as
the eye descends tow.lrd-. the water, arc the sides, and doors, and windows of the
stale-rooms, jumbled as oddly together as thouj^h they formed a small stitfet, built
by the varying tastes of a do/cn men : the whole is supported on beams and
pillars restinj; on a dirty bar^e, but a few inches above the water's cd(,'e : and in
the narrow space between this upper strui;lure and this barj^'c's deck, are the
furnace fires and machinery, open at the sides to every wind that blows, and every
storm of rain it drives alon^ its path.

I'assinj,' one of these boats at nijj;ht, and seeing the great body of fire, exposed
as I have just described, that raf,'cs and roars beneath the frail j)ile of painted wood :
the machinery, not warded oil" or guarded in any way, but doing its work in the
midst of the crowd of idlers and emigrants and children, who throng the lower
deck : undr.i- the management, too, of reckless men whose acquaintance with its
mysteries may have been of six months' standing : one feels directly that the
wonder is, not that there should be so many fatal accidents, but that any journey
should be safely made.

Within, thci'e is one lo: \ narrow cabin, the whole length of the boat ; from
which the state-rooms open, on both sides. A small porticm of it at the stern is
)artitioncd ofV for the ladies ; and the bar is at the opposite extreme. There is a
ong table down the centre, and at either end a stove. The washing apparatus is
forward, on the deck. It is a little better than on board the canal boat, but not
much. In all modes of travelling, the American customs, with reference to the
means of personal cleanliness and wholesome ablution, arc extremely negligent
and filthy ; and I strongly incline to the belief that a considerable amount of illness
is referable to this cause.

We are to be on board the Messenger three da^s : arriving at Cincinnati
(barring accidents) on Monday morning. There are three meals a day. Breakfast
at seven, dinner at half-past twelve, supper about six. At each, there are a great
many small dishes and plates upon the table, with very little in them ; so that
although there is every appearance of a mighty ** spread," there is seldom really
more than a joint : except for those who fancy slices of beet-root, shreds of dried
beef, complicated entanglements of yellow pickle ; maize, Indian com, apple-sauce,
and pumpkin.

Some people fancy all these little dainties together (and sweet preserves beside),
by way of relish to their roast pig. They are generally those dyspeptic ladies and
igentlemen who eat unheard-of quantities of hot corn bread (almost as good for
the digestion as a kneaded pin-cushion), for breakfast, and for supper. Those who
do not observe this custom, and who help themselves several times instead, usually
suck their knives and forks meditatively, until they have decided what to take next :
then pull them out of their mouths ; put them in the dish ; help themselves ; and
fall to work again. At dinner, there is nothing to drink upon the table, but great
jugs full of cold water. Nobody says anything, at any meal, to anybody. All
the passengers are very dismal, and seem to have tremendous secrets weighing on
their minds. There is no conversation, no laughter, no cheerfulness, no sociality,
except in spitting ; and that is done in silent fellowship round the stove, when the
iTieal is over. Every man sits down, dull and languid ; swallows his fare as if

Hi

9+

American Notes.

jjll

breakfasts, dinnns, and suppers, were ncccssilics of nature ncvertfrbfr coupled
with recreation or enjoyment ; and having holted his fotxlina j^looniy silence, holts
hinisell', in the same state. J?ul lor these animal oh^ervances, jou mi},'ht suppose
the whole male poilion of the e()m|)any to be the melancholy ;^hosts u\' deparfci!
book-keejiers, uho had fallen dead at the desk : such is their weary air ot
business and calculation. Undertakers on duty woulil be spiii^htly beside them ;
and a collation of funeral-baked meats, in comparison with these meals, would Ik-
a spark liu}; lesti\ity.

The people are all alike, too. There is no diversity of dharacter. They travil
about on the same crramb, say and do the same thinj^s in ex icily the same
mamur, and follow in the same dull cheerless round. All down the Ion;; table,
there is scarcely a man who is in anythiii},' dilVerent from his nei;,'iibour. It is
quite a relief to have, sittinj» opjiositc, that little ^irl ol lifteen with the lo(|uacio^I^
chin : who, to do her justice, acts up to it, and fully identifies nature's handwritiiij^',
for of all the small chatterboxes that ever invaded the lepose of drowsy kulies'
cabin, she is the fn-st and foremost. The beautiful pirl, who sits a little beyond
her — farther ('anvn the table there — married the youii},' m.ui with tlu>dark whisker^,
who sits bcyonil her, onlj- las' Mionth. They are ^oin;,' to settle in the very l<"ar
West, where he has lived four years, but where she has never been. They wcie
both overturned in a stafjc-coach the other ilay (a bad omen anywhere else, where
overturns are not so common), and his head, which bears the marks of a recent
wound, is bound up still. .She was hurt too, at the same time, and lay insensible
for some days ; bri^^ht as her eyes arc, now.

Furtlicr ilown still, sits a man who is },'oinfj some miles beyond their place of
destination, to •' improve" a newly-discovcred copi)cr mine. He canies the village
— that is to be — with him : a few frame cotta<jes, and an apparatus for smeltin;,'
the copper. He cairies its people too. They are jiartly American and partly
Irish, antl herd tof^cther on the lower deck ; wlicre they amused themselves last
cvcnin<; till the night was pretty far advanced, by alternately firing off pistols and
shiging hymns.

They, and the veiy few who have been left at table twenty minutes, rise, and go
away. XVe do so too ; and passing through our little state-room, resume our seats
in the quiet gallery without.

A fine broad river always, but in some parts much wider than in others : and
then there is usually a green island, covered with trees, dividing it into two streams.
Occasionally, we stop for a few minutes, maybe to take in wood, maybe for passengers,
at some small town or village (I ought to say city, eveiy place is a city here) ; but
the banks are for the most part deej) solitudes, overgroMTi with trees, which, here-
abouts, are already in leaf and veiy green. For miles, and miles, and miles, these
solitudes are unbroken by any sign of human life or trace of human footstep ; nor
is anything seen to move about them but the blue jay, whose colour is so bright,
and yet so delicate, that it looks like a flying flower. At lengthened intervals a
log cabin, with its little space of cleared land about it, nestles under a rising
ground, and sends its thread of blue smoke curling up into the sky. It stands in
the corner of the poor field of wheat, which is full of great unsightly stumps, like
earthy butchers'-blocks. Sometimes the ground is only just now cleared : the
felled trees lying yet upon the soil : and the log-house only this morning begun.
As we pass this clearing, the settler leans upon his axe or hammer, and looks wist-
fully at the people from the world. The children creep out of the temporary hut,
which is like a gipsy tent upon the ground, and clap their hands and shout. The
dog only glances round at us, and then looks up into his master's face again, as if
he were rendered uneasy by any suspension of the common business, and had
nothing more to do with pleasurers. And still there is the same, eternal fore-

Ill

I

' to l)C COUpIr.I

ly silence, holi,

>lllj,'lll SI||)|,o.,,

•'^ (W (Icp.ufcd
> wc'.iry ait (,f
y beside (hcin ;
icals, would l)c'

They trnvi 1

I'lf Ion;; t.d))c,
k'lil>i>ur. It i^
llic loquacious
li;ni(hviitinj;,
Ironsy ladies'
I little beyond
darlv whiskers,
ti the vciy ]«ar
I. They weir
tc else, wherx
K's of a recent
lay insensible

their place of
ies the villn.i^'c
s for smeltin;;
lin and partly
icmselvcs last
j/1" pistols and I

^, rise, and go
unic our seats

1 others : and
1 two streams.
3r passengers,
ty here) ; but

which, herc-
i miles, these
botstep; nor

is so bright,
d intervals a
icier a rising

It stands in
stumps, like
cleared ; the
ning begun,
i looks wist-
aporary hut,
shout. The
; again, as if
js, and ha<l
!ternal fore-

It

''f

1 1 111'
I i

ill

I: i>

.("1 1'l^;,'

lil

lii

ii'^

;:

i 1 ;; k

'i.;i %

I '

'i :

%:?:T!

i:

,1 ' ■:'

^^

•|!f

I

EMIGRANTS.

Emigrants.

95

■\

\!

:^' '■'

^i

^Tound. The river has washed away Us banks, and stately trees Ikivc fallen down
into the stream. Some have been there so long, that tliey are mere dry grizzly
skeletons. Some have just toppled over, and having earth yet al)out their roots,
are bathing their green heads in the river, and putting forth new shoots and
])ranches. Some are almost sliding down, as you look at them. And some were
drowned so long ago, that their bleached arms start out from the middle of the
current, and seem to try to grasp the boat, and drag it under water.

Through such a scene as this, the unwieldy machine takes its hoarse sullen
wav : venting, at every revolution of the paddles, a loud high-pressure blast;
enough, one would think, to waken up the host of Indians who lie buried in a
great mound yomler : so old, that mighty oaks anil other forest trees have struck
their roots into its earth ; and so high, that it is a hill, even among the hills that
Nature planted lound it. The vt.y river, as though it shared one's feelings of
compassion for the extinct tribes who lived so pleasantly here, in their blessed
ignorance of M'hite existence, hundreds of years ago, steals out of its w\\\ to ripple
near this mound : and there are few places where the Ohio sparkles more brightly
than in the Big Grave Creek.

All tlris I see as I sit in the little stern- gal Iciy mcnlioned just now. Evening
slowly steals upon the landscape and changes it before me, when we stop to set
some emigrants ashore.

Five men, as many women, and a little girl. All their worldly gootls arc a bag,
uge chest and an old chair: one, old, high-backed, rush-bottr.med chair : a
cary settler in itself. They are rowed ashore in the boat, while the vessel
-lands a little off a\»-aiting its return, the water being shallow. They are landed
at the foot of a high bank, on the summit of which are a few log cabins, attainable
oil'- by a l<mg winding path. It is growing dusk; but the sun is voy red, and
St.. les in the water and on some of the tree-toj)s, like iirc.

The mei get out of the boat f>rst ; help out the women; take out the bag, the
chc t, the chair; bid thj rowers "good-bye;" and shove the boat off for them.
A< 'ie first plash of the oars in the Avater, the oldest woman of the party sits
do\\ in the old chair, close to the water's edge, without speaking a word. None
of the others sit down, though the chest is large enough for many seats. They
all stand where they landed, as if stricken into stone ; and look after tlie boat.
So they remain, quite still and silent : the old woman and her old chair, in the
centre ; the bag and chest upon the shore, without anybody heeding them : all
eyes fixed upon the boat. It comes alongside, is made fast, the men jump on
board, the engine is put in n;otion, and we go hoarsely on again. There they
stand yet, without the motion of a hand. I can sec them through my glass, when,
in the distance and increasing darkness, they are mere specks to the eye : lingering
th^re still : the old woman in the old chair, and all die rest about her : not stirring
in the least degree. And thus I slow!} lose them.

The night is dark, and we proceed within the shadow of the wooded bank,
which malvcs it darker. After gliding past tlie sombre maze of boughs for a long
time, we come upon an open space where the tall trees are burning. The shape
of evciy branch and twig is expressed in a deep red glow, and as the light wind
stirs and ruffles it, they seem to vegetate in fire. It is such a sight as we read of
in legends of enchanted forests : saving that it is sad to .«ee these noble works
wasting away so awfully, alone ; and to think how many years must come and go
before the magic that created them will rear fheir like upon this giound again.
But the time will come : and when, in their changed ashes, the giowth of centu-
ries unborn has struck its roots, the restless men of distant ages will repair to
these again unpeopled solitudes ; and their fellows, in cities far away, that slumber
now,* perhaps, beneath the rolling sea will read in language strange' to any ears in

•

■ipiiw^npii ninMiii— iiiii

riHw i<— I

96

American Notes.

m '

h ii

m

being now, but very old to them, of primeval forests where the axe was never
heard, and where the junglcd ground was never trodden by a human foot.

Midnight and sleep blot out these scenes and thoughts ; and when the morning
shines again, it gilds the house-tops of a lively city, before whose broad paved
wharf the boat is moored ; with other boats, and flags, and moving wheels, and \
hum of men around it ; as though there were not a solitaiy or silent rood of i
ground within the compass of a thousand miles. |

Cincinnati is a beautiful city ; cheerful, thriving, and animated. I have not
often seen a place that commends itself so favourably and pleasantly to a stranger
at the first glance as this does : with its clean houses of red and white, its well-
paved roads, and foot-ways of bright til Nor does it become less prepossessing
on a closer acquaintance. The streets arc broad and airy, the shops extremely 1
good, the private residences remarkable for their elegance and neatness. There !
is something of invention and fancy in the varying styles of these latter erections, !
which, after the dull company of the steam-boat, is perfectly delightful, as conveying
an assurance that there are such qualities still in existence. The disposition to
ornament these pretty villas and render them attractive, leads to the culture of
trees and flowers, and the laying out of well-kept gardens, the sight of which, to
those who walk along the streets, is inexpressibly refreshing and agreeable. I
was quite charmed with the appearance of the town, and its adjoining suburb of
Mount Auburn : from which the city, lying in an amphitheatre of hills, forms a
picture of remarkable beauty, and is seen to great advantage.

There happened to be a great Temperance Convention held here on the day
after our arrival ; and as the order of march brought the procession under the
windows of the hotel in which we lodged, when they started in the morning, I
had a good opportunity of seeing it. It comprised several thousand men ; the
members of various " Washington Auxiliaiy Temperance Societies ; " and was
marshalled by officers on horseback, who cantered briskly up and down the line,
with scarves and ribbons of bright colours fluttering out behind them gaily.
There were bands of music too, and banners out of number : and it was a fresh,
holiday-looking concourse altogether.

I was particularly pleased to see the Irishmen, who formed a distinct society
among themselves, and mustered very strong with their green scarves ; canning .
their national Harp and their Portrait of Father Mathew, high above the people's
heads. They looked as jolly and good-humoured as ever ; and, working (here)
the hardest for their living and doing any kind of sturdy labour that came in their
way, were the most independent fellows there, I thought.

The banners were very well painted, and flaunted down the street famously.
There was the smiting of the rock, and the gushing forth of the waters ; and there
was a temperate man with "considerable of a hatchet " (as the standard-bearer
would probably have said), aiming a deadly blow at a serpent which was apparently
about to spring upon him from the top of a barrel of spirits. But the chief feature
of this part of the show was a huge allegorical device, borne among the ship-
carpenters, on one side whereof the steam-boat Alcohol was represented bursting
her boiler and exploding with a great crash, while upon the other, the good ship
Temperance sailed away with a fair wind, to the heart's content of the captain,
crew, and passengers.

After going round the town, the procession repaired to a certain appointed
place, where, as the printed programme set forth, it would be received by the chil-
dren of the diff"erent free schools, "singing Temperance Songs." I was prevented
from getting there, in time to hear these Litfle Warblers, or to report upon this
novel kind of vocal entertainment : novel, at least, to me : but I found in a large
open space, each society gathered round its own banners, and listening in 'silent

yH

tmttiAtuimimitii&uimUmiJUk

J axe was ncxer
lan foot,
^en the morninp
se broad paved
mg wheels, and
■ silent rood of

d. I have not
■ly to a stranger
white, its m'cII.
is prepossessing
hops extremely
■atness. There
atter erections,
il,asconveyin'»

disposition to
) the culture of
lit of which, to

agreeable. I
Jing suburb of

hills, forms a

;re on the day
ion under the
be morning, I
nd^ men ; the
s ; * and was
own the line,
them gaily.
: was a fresh,

tinci society
es; canning,
the people's
diking (here)
ame in their

it famously,
and there
idard-bearer

apparently
hief feature
? the ship,
sd bursting

good ship
le captain,

appointed
>y the chil-
prevented
upon this
in a large
in 'silent

1

j4t School.

97

m.

atteution to its own orator. The speeches, judging from the little I could hear of
them, were certainly adapted to the occasion, as having that degree of relation-
ship to cold water which wet blanl^ets may claim : but the main thing was the
conduct and appearance of the audience throughout the day ; and that was admir-
able and full of jironiise.

Cincinnati is honourably famous for its free-schools, of which it has so many
that no jierson's child among its population can, by possibility, want the means of
education, which are extended, upon an average, to four thousand pupils, annually.
I was only present in one of these establislimenls during the hours of instruction.
In the boys' department, which was full of little urchins (varying in their ages, I
should say, from six years old to ten or twelve), the master oiVcrcd to institute an
extemporan,- examination of the pupils in algebra ; a proposal, which, as I was
by no means conlident of my ability to detect mistakes in that science, I declined
with some alarm. In the giils' school, reading was proposed ; and as I felt tole-
rably equ;d to that art, I expressed my willingness to hear a class. Books were
distributed accordingly, and some half-dozen girls relieved each other in reading
j)aragrapli-; from English History. But it seemed to be a dry compilation, in-
tinitcly above their powers ; and when they had blundered through three or four
dreaiy passages concerning the Treaty of Amiens, and other thrilling topics of the
same nature (obviously without comprehending ten words), I expressed myself
quite satisfied. It is very possible that they only mounted to this exalted stave in
the Ladder of Learning for the astonishment of a visitor ; and that at other times
they keep \x\iO\\ its lower rounds ; but I should have been much better pleased
and satisfied if 1 had heard them exercised in simpler lessons, which they under-
stood.

As in cvciy other place I visited, the Judges here were gentlemen ' f high
character and attainments. I was in one of the courts for a few minutes, and
found it lilce those to which I have already referred. A nuisance cause was trying ;
there were not many spectators ; and the witnesses, counsel, and jury, formed a
sort of family circle, sufficiently jocose and snug.

The society with which I mingled, was intelligent, courteous, and agreeable.
The inhabitants of Cincinnati are proud of their city as one of the most interest-
ing in America : and with good reason: for beautiful and thriving as it is now/
and containing, as it docs, a population of fifty thousand souls, but two-and-fifty
years have passed away since the giound on which it stands (bought at that time
for a few dollars) was a wild wood, and its citizen^ were but a handful of dwellers
in scattered log huts upon the river's shore.

CHAPTER XII.

[FROM CFNCINNATI TO LOUISVILLE IN ANOTHER WESTERN STEAM -BOAT ; AND
FROM LOUISVILLE TO ST. LOUIS IN ANOTHER. ST. LOUIS.

Leaving Cincinnati at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, we embarked for Louis^^lle
[in the Pike steam-boat, which, carrying the mails, was a packet of a much better
iclass than that in which we had come from Pittsburg. As this passage does not
[occupy more than twelve or thirteen hours, we airanged to go ashore that night :

lot coveting the distinction of sleeping in a state-room, when it was possible to

' Sep anj'where else.

[There chanced to be on board this boat, in addition to the usual dreary crowd

H

mm I

98

American Noic^.

of passengers, one Pitchlynn, a chief of the Choctaw tribe of Indians, who sent
in his card to me, and with whom I had the pleasure of a long conversation.

He spoke Enghsh perfectly well, though he had not begun to learn the language,
he told me, until he was a young man grown. He had read many books ; and
Scott's poetry appeared to have left a strong impression on his mind : especially
the opening of The Lady of the Lake, and the great battle scene in Marmion, in
which, no doubt from the congeniality of the subjects to his own pursuits and
tastes, he had great interest and delight. He appeared to understand correctly all
he had read ; and whatever iiction had enlisted his sympathy in its belief, had
done so keenly and earnestly. I might almost say fiercely. He was dressed in
our ordinary eveiy-day costume, which hung about his fine figure loosely, and with
indifferent grace. On my telling him that I regretted not to see him in his own
attire, he threw up his right arm, for a moment, as though he were brandishing
some heavy weapon, and answered, as he let it fall again, that his race were losing
many things besides their dress, and would soon be seen upon the earth no more :
but he wore it at home, he added proudly.

He told me that he had been away from his home, west of the Mississipj)],
seventeen months : and was now returning. He had been chiefly at Washington
on some negotiations pending between his Tribe and the Government : which
were not settled yet (he said in a melancholy way), and he feared never would be :
for what could a few poor Indians do, against such well-skilled men of business
as the whites } He had no love for Washington ; tired of towns and cities very
soon ; and longed for the Forest and the Prairie.

I asked him what he thought of Congress ? He answered, with a smile, that
it wanted dignity, in an Indian's eyes

He would veiy much like, he said, to see England before he died ; and spoke
with much interest about the great things to be seen there. When I told him of
that chamber in the Biitish Museum wherein are preserved household memorials
of a race that ceased to be, thousands of years ago, he was very attentive, and it
\vas not hard to see that he had a reference in his mind to the gradual fading away
of his own people.

This led us to speak of Mr. Catlin's gallery, which he praised highly : obsei-ving
that his own portrait was among the collection, and that all the likenesses were
"elegant." Mr. Cooper, he said, had painted the Red Man well ; and so would
I, he knew, if I would go home with him and hunt buffaloes, which he was quite
anxious I should do. When I told him that supposing I went, I should not be
very likely to damage the buffaloes much, he took it as a great joke and laughed
heartily.

He was a remarkably handsome man; some years past forty I should judge ;
with long black hair, an aquiline nose, broad cheek bones, a sunburnt complexion,
and a very bright, keen, dark, and piercing eye. There were but twenty thousand
of the Choctaws left, he said, and their number was decreasing every day. A few
of his brother chiefs had been obliged to become civilised, and to make themselves
acquainted with what the whites knew, for it was their only chance of existence.
But they M'ere not many ; and the rest were as they always had been. He dwelt
on this : and said several times that unless they tried to assimilate themselves to
their conquerors, they must be swept away before the strides of civilised society.

When we shook hands at parting, I told him he must come to England, as he
longed to see the land so much : that I should hope to see him there, one day :
and that I could promise him he would be well received and kindly treated. He
was evidently pleased by this assurance, though he rejoined with a good-humoured
smile and an arch shake of his head, that the English used to be very fond of the

wanted their help, but had not cared much for the

they

smce.

Passing Notes.

99

,'ith a smile, that

I'

He took his leave ; as stately and complete a gentleman of Nature's making,
as ever I beheld ; and moved among the people in the boat, another kind of being.
He sent me a lithographed portrait of himself soon afterwards ; very like, though
scarcely handsome enough ; which I have carefully preserved in memory of our
luief acquaintance.

There was nothing very interesting in the scenery of this day's journey, which
brought us at midnight to Louisville. We slept at the Gait House ; a splendid
hotel; and were as handsomely lodged as though wc had been in Paris, rather
than hundreds of miles beyond the Alleghanies.

The city presenting no objects of sufficient interest to detain us on our way, we
resolved to proceed next day by another steam-boat, the Fulton, and to join it,
about noon, at a suburb called Portland, where it would be delayed some time in
passing through a canal.

The interval, after breakfast, we devoted to riding through the town, which is
regular and cheerful : the streets being laid out at right angles, and planted with
young trees. The buildings are smoky and blackened, from the use of bituminous
coal, but an Englishman is well used to that appearance, and indisposed to quarrel
with it. There did not appear to be much business stining ; and some unfinished
buildings and improvements seemed to intimate that the city had been overbuilt
in the ardour of " going-a-head," and was suffering under the re-action consequent
upon such feverish forcing of its pov/ers.

On our way to Portland, we passed a " Magistrate's office," which amused me,
as looking far more like a dame school than any police establishment : for this
awful Institution was nothing but a little lazy, good-for-nothing front parlour,
open to the street ; wherein two or three figures (I presume the magistrate and
his mjTmidons) were basking in the sunshine, the very effigies of languor and
repose. It was a perfect picture of Justice retired from business for want of cus-
tomers ; her sword and scales sold off; napping comfortably with her legs upon
the table.

Here, as elsewhere in these parts, the road was perfectly alive with pigs of all
ages ; lying about in every direction, fast asleep ; or grunting along in quest of
hidden dainties. I had always a sneaking kindness for these odd animals, and
found a constant source of amusement, when all others failed, in watching their
proceedings. As we were riding along this morning, I observed a little incident
between two youthful pigs, which was so very human as to be inexpressibly
comical and grotesque at the time, though I dare say, in telling, it is tame enough.

One young gentleman (a very delicate porker with several straws sticking about

his nose, betokening recent investigations in a dunghill), was walking deliberately

on, profoundly thinking, when suddenly his brother, Mho was lying in a

miry hole unseen by him, rose up immediately before his startled eyes, ghostly

with damp mud. Never was pig's whole mass of blood so turned. He started

back at least three feet, gazed for a moment, and then shot off as hard as he could

■ go: his excessively little tail vibrating with speed and terror like a distracted

[pendulum. But before he had gone very far, he began to reason with himself as

Ito the nature of this frightful appearance ; and as he reasoned, he relaxed his

5peed by gradual degrees ; until at last he stopped, and faced about. There was

lis brother, with the mud upon him glazing in the sun, yet staring out of the very

same hole, perfectly amazed at his proceedings ! He was no sooner assured of

"lis ; and he assured himself so carefully that one may almost say he shaded his

syes with his hand to see the better ; than he came back at a round trot, pounced

ttpon him, and summarily took off a piece of his tail ; as a caution to him to be

careful what he was about for the future, and never to play tricks with his family

any more.

' III »

lOO

American Notes.

Mil

m-

>*"

•wif ;

Wc found the steam-boat in the canal, waiting for the slow process of getting];
through the lock, and went on board, where we sliortly afterwards had a new kin'l
of visitor in the person of a certain Kentucky Giant wliose name is Porter, and
■who is of the moderate height of seven feet eight inclie.s, in his stockings.

There never was a race of people who so completely gave the lie to history as
these giants, or whom all the chroniclers have so cruelly libelled. Insteatl of
roaring and ravaging about the world, constantly catering for their cannibal
larders, and perpetually going to market in an unlawful manner, they are the
meekest people in any man's acquaintance : rather inclining to milk and vegetable
diet, and bearing anything for a quiet life. So decidedly are amiability and mild-
ness their characteristics, that I confess I look upon that youth who distinguished
himself by the slaughter of these inofl'ensive persons, as a false-hearted brigand,
who, pretending to philanthropic motives, was secretly influenced only by tlu;
wealth stored up within their castles, and the hope of plunder. And I lean tlie
more to this opinion from finding that even the historian of those exploits, with
all his partiality for his hero, is foin to admit that the slaughtered monsters iii
question were of a very innocent and simple turn ; extremely guileless and ready
of belief ; lending a credulous ear to the most improbable tales ; suffering them-
selves to be easily entrapped into pits ; and even (as in the case of the Welsh
Giant) with an excess of the hospitable politeness of a landlord, ripping them-
selves open, rather than hint at the possibility of their guests being versed in the
vagabond arts of sleight-of-hand and hocus-pocus.

The Kentucky Giant was but another illustration of the truth of this position.
He had a weakness in the region of the knees, and a tmstfulness in his long face,
which appealed even to five-feet nine for encouragement and support. He was
only twenty-five years old, he said, and had grown recently, for it had been found
necessary to make an addition to the legs of his inexpressibles. At fifteen he was
a short boy, and in those days his English father and his Irish mother had rather
snubbed him, as being too small of stature to sustain the credit of the family. He
added that his health had not been good, though it was better now : but short
people are not wanting who whisper that he drinks too hard.

I understand he drives a hackney-coach, though how he does it, unless he
stands on the footboard behind, and lies along the roof upon his chest, with his
chin in the box, it would be difficult to comprehend. He brought his gun with
him, as a curiosity. Christened "The Little Rifle," and displayed outside a shop-
window, it would make the fortune of any retail business in Holbom. When he
had shown himself and talked a little while, he withdrew with his pocket -instru-
ment, and went bobbing down the cabin, among men of six feet high and upwards,
like a lighthouse walking among lamp-posts.

Within a few minutes afterwards, we were out of the canal, and in the Ohio
river again.

The arrangements of the boat were like those of the Messenger, and the pas-
sengers were of the same order of people. We fed at the same times, on the same
kind of viands, in the same dull manner, and with the same observances. The
company appeared to be oppressed by the same tremendous concealments, and
had as little capacity of enjoyment or lightheartedness. I never in my life did see
such listless, heavy dulness as brooded over these meals ; the very recollection of
it weighs me down, and makes me, for the moment, wretched. Reading and
writing on my knee, in our little cabin, I really dreaded the coming of the hour
that summoned us to table ; and was as glad to escape from it again, as if it had
been a penance or a punishment. Healthy cheerfulness and good spirits forming
a part of the banquet, I could soak my crusts in the fountain with Le Sage's strol-
ling player, and revel in their glad enjoyment: but sitting down with so many

.,*/'

The Mississippi.

loi

occss of getting
had a new kin'l
e is Porter, ami
ockings.
lie to history as
led. Insteatl '>!"
• their cannil);il
er, they are the
Ik and vegetable
ability and mild- ,
ho distinguished
iicarted brigand,
ced only by tlu;
And I lean the
se exploits, "wiih
ercd monsters in
leless and ready
; suffering them-
ise of the Welsh
I, ripping thcni-
ng versed in the

of this position.

in his long fiice,
jpport. He was
t had been found
A-t fifteen he was
lother had ratlier

the family. lie

now : but short

»es it, unless he
IS chest, with his

it his gun with
1 outside a shop-
)om. When he
lis pocket-instni-

'h and upwards,

and in the Ohio

er, and the pas-
mes, on the same
)servances. The
jncealments, and
n my life did see
ry recollection of
Reading and
ling of the hour
Tain, as if it had
id spirits forming
Le Sage's strol-
'n with so many

m

fellow-animals to ward off thirst and hunger as a business ; to empty, each creature,
his Yahoo's trough as quickly as he can, and then slink sullenly away ; to have
these social sacraments stripped of everything but the mere greedy satisfaction of
the natural cravings ; goes so against the grain with me, that I seriously believe the
recollection of these funeral feasts will be a waking nightmare to me all my life.

There was some relief in this boat, too, which there had not been in the other,
for the captain (a blunt good-natured fellow), had. his handsome wife with him,
who was disposed to be lively and agreeal)le, as were a few other lady-passengers
who had their seats about us at the same end of the table. But nothing could
have made head against the depressing influence of the general body. There was
a ma/metism of dulness in them which would have beaten down the most Hicetious
companion that the earth ever knew. A jest would have been a crime, and a
smile would have faded into a grinning horror. Such deadly leaden people ; such
systematic plodding weary insupportable heaviness ; such a mass of animated in-
tligestion in respect of all that was genial, jovial, frank, social, or hearty; never,
sure, was brought together elsewhere since the world began.

Nor was the scenery, as we approached the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi
rivers, at all inspiriting in its influence. The trees were stunted in their growth ;
the banks were low and flat ; the settlements and log cabins fewer in number :
their inhabitants more wan and wretched than any we had encountered yet. No
songs of birds were in the air, no pleasant scents, no moving lights and shadows
from swift passing clouds. Hour after hour, the changeless glare of the hot,
unwinking sky, shone upon the same monotonous objects. Hour after hour, the
river rolled along, as wearily and slowly as the time itself.

At length, upon the morning of the third day, we arrived at a spot so much
more desolate than any we had yet beheld, that the forlomest places we had
passed, were, in comparison with it, full of interest. At the junction of the two
rivers, on ground so flat and low and marshy, that at certain seasons of the year
it is inundated to the house-tops, lies a breeding-place of fever, ague, and death ;
vaunted in England as a mine of Golden Hope, and speculated in, on the faith of
monstrous lejjrcscntations, to many people's ruin. A dismal swamp, on which
the half-built houses rot away : cleared here and there for the space of a few
yards ; and teeming, then, with rank unwholesome vegetation, in whose baleful
shade the wretched wanderers who are tempted hither, droop, and die, and lay
their bones ; the hateful Mississippi circling and eddying before it, and turning off
upon its southern course a slimy monster hideous to behold ; a hotbed of disease,
an ugly sepulchre, a grave uncheered by any gleam of promise : a place without
one single quality, in earth or air or water, to commend it : such is this dismal
Cairo.

But what words shall describe the Mississippi, great father of rivers, who (praise
be to Heaven) has no young children like him ! An enormous ditch, sometimes
two or three miles wide, running liquid mud, six miles an hour : its strong and
frothy current choked and obstructed everywhere by huge logs and whole forest
trees : now twining themselves together in great rafts, from' the interstices df
which a sedgy lazy foam works up, to float upon the water's top ; now rolling
past like monstrous bodies, their tangled roots showing like matted hair ; now
glancing singly by like giant leeches ; and now writhing round and round in the
vortex of some small whirlpool, like wounded snakes. The banks low, the trees
dwarfish, the marshes swarming with frogs, the wretched cabins few and far apart,
their inmates hollow-cheeked and pale, the weather ver>' hot, mosquitoes pene-
trating into every crack and crevice of the boat, mud and slime on everything :
nothing pleasant in its aspect, but the harmless lightning which flickers every
night upon the dark horizon.

'#

t^*'-

>i^p«*»'NMM-

i„:it:i

JJi'l

! '.t

.%^

lo:

j4merii(ifi Ncies.

-i

For two clays we toiled up this foul stream, striking constantly against tK
floating limber, or stoj^ping to avoid those more dangerous obstacles, the snags,
or sawyers, which are the hidden trunks of trees that have their roots below the
tide. When the nights are very dark, the look-out stationed in the head of the
boat, knows by the ripple of the water if any great impediment be near at hand,
and rings a bell beside him, which is the signal for the engine to be stopi:)ed : but
always in the night this bell has work to do, and after every ring, there comes a
blow which renders it no easy matter to remain in bed.

The decline of day here was very gorgeous ; tinging the firmament deeply with
red and gold, u]i to the very keystone of the arch above us. As the sun went
down behind the bank, tlie slightest blades of grass upon it seemed to become as
distinctly visible as the arteries in the skeleton of a leaf; nntl when, as it slowly
sank, the red and golden bars upon the water grew dimmer, and dimmer yet, as
if they were sinking too ; and all the glowing colours of departing day jxiled, inch
by inch, before the sombre night ; the scene became a thousand times more lone-
some and more dreary than before, and all its influences darkened with the sky.

We drank the muddy water of this river while we were upon it. It is considcretl
wholesome by the natives, and is something more opaque than gruel. I have seen
water like it at the Filter-shops, but nowhere else.

On the fourth night after leaving Louisville, we reached St. Louis, and here I
witnessed the conclusion of an incident, trifling enough in itself, but very pleasant
to see, which had interested me during the whole journey.

There was a little woman on board, with a little baby ; and both little woman
and little child were cheerful, good-looking, bright-eyed, and fiiir to see. Ihe
little woman had been passing a longtime with her sick mother in New York, and
had left her home in St. Louis, in that condition in which ladies who truly love
their lords desire to be. The baby was born in her mother's house ; and she hatl
not seen her husband (to whom she was now returning), for twelve months :
having left him a month or two after their marriage.

Well, to be sure, there never was a little woman so full of hope, and tendernes-,
and love, and anxiety, as this little woman was : and all day long she wondered
whether " He " would be at the wharf; and whether •' He " had got her letter;
and whether, if she sent the baby ashore by somebody else, "He "would know
it, meeting it in the street : which, seeing that he had never set eyes upon it in his
life, was not very likely in the abstract, but was probable enough, to the young
mother. She was such an artless little creature ; and was in such a sunny, beaming,
hopeful state; and let out all this matter clinging close about her heart, so freely;
that all the other lady passengers entered into the spirit of it as much as she ; antl
the captain (who heard all about it from his wife), was wondrous sly, I promise
you : inquiring, every time we met at table, as in forge tfulness, whether she
expected anybody to meet her at St. Louis, and whether she would want to go
ashore the night we reached it (but he supposed she wouldn't), and cutting many
other dry jokes of that nature. There was one little weazen, dried-apple-faccd
old woman, who took occasion to doubt the constancy of husbands in such circum-
stances of bereavem ent ; and there was another lady (with a lap dog) old enough
to moralize on the lightness of human afi'ections, and yet not so old that she
could help nursing ihe baby, now and then, or laughing with the rest, when the
little woman called it by its father's name, and asked it all manner of fantastic
questions concerning him in the joy of her heart.

It was something of a blow to the little woman, that when we were within
twenty miles of our destination, it became clearly necessary to put this baby to bed.
But she got over it with the same good humour; tied a handkerchief round her head ; •
and came out into the little galleiy with the rest. Then, such an oracle as she became

I:

itly a^Minst ih
iclcs, the sna^s,
oots below the
.he head of the
; near at ham],
)e stopped : but
;, there eonic^ a

ent deej)!)' with
s the sun went
I to beeoinc as
en, as it slowly

dimmer yet, as
day paled, inch
nies more lonc-
with the slcy.

It is considered
el. I have seen

uis, and here I
ut very pleasant

h little woman
r to see. 'J'he
New York, and
i who truly love
and she had
welve months :

and tenderness,

she wondered

got her letter;

! " would know

:s upon it in his

to the young

unny, beaming,

leart, so freely ;

ch as she ; and

sly, I promise

whether she

d want to go

cutting many

ed-apple-faccd

n such circum-

g) old enougli

old that slie

rest, when the

ler of fantastic

were within
lis baby to bed.
und her head ;
; as she became

.r

1

THE LITTLE WIFE.

1

1

The charming little woman i hopes realised.

lo;

in reference to the localities ! and such facctiousness as was displayed l)y the
married ladies ! and such symi)athy as was shown by the sin^'Ic ones ! and such
|)eals of laughter as the little woman herself (who would just as soon have cried)
^'reetcd every jest with !

At last, there were tlie lij,^hts of .St. Louis, and her:; wa :: the wharf, and those
were the stej^s : and the little woman covering l:or face with her hands, and lautjhini^
(or seeminj; to lauph) more than ever, ran into her own cabin, and shut herself up.
I have no doubt that in the charming incoi^sistency of such excitement, she stooped
her ears, lest she should hear "Him " asking for her ; but I did not see her clo it.

Then, a great crowd of people rushed on l)oard, though the boat was not yet
made fast, but was wandering about, among the other boats, to find a landing-
place : and everybody looked for the husband : and nobody saw him : when, in the
midst of us all — Heaven knows how she ever got there — there was the little woman
clinging with both arms tight round the neck of a fine, good-looking, sturdy young
fellow ! and in a moment aftenvards, there she was again, actually clapping her
little hands for joy, as she dragged him through the small door of her small cabin,
to look at the baby as he lay asleej) !

We went to a large hotel, called the Planters House : built like an English
hospital, with long passages and bare walls, and skylights above 'the room-doors
for the free circulation of air. There were a great many boarders in it ; and as
many lights sparkled and glistened from the windows down into the street below,
when we drove up, as if it had been illuminated on some occasion of rejoicing. It
is an excellent house, and the proprietors have most bountiful notions of providing
the creature comforts. Dining alone with my wife in our own room, one day, 1
counted fourteen dishes on the table at once.

In the old French portion of the town, the thoroughfares are narrow and crooked,
and some of the houses are veiy quaint and picturesque : being built of wood, with
tumble-down galleries before the windows, approachable by stairs or rather ladders
from the street. There are queer little barbers' shops and drinking-houses too, in
this quarter ; and abundance of crazy old tenements with blinking casements, such
as may be seen in Flanders. Some of these ancient habitations, with high garret
gable-window perking into the roofs, have a kind of P'rench shrug about them ;
and being lop-sided with age, appear to hold their heads askew, besides, as if they
were grimacing in astonishment at the American Improvements.

It is hardly necessary to say, that these consist of wharfs and warehouses, and
new buildings in all directions ; and of a great many vast plans which are still
"progressing." Already, however, some very good houses, broad streets, and
marble-fronted shoj^s, have gone so far a-head as to be in a state of completion;
and the town bids lair in a few years to improve considerably : though it is not
likely ever to vie, in point of elegance or beauty, with Cincinnati.

The Roman Catholic religion, introduced here by the early French settlers,
prevails extensively. Among the public institutions are a Jesuit college ; a convent
for " the Ladies of the Sacred Heart ;" and a large chapel attached to the college,
which was in course of erection at the time of my visit, and was intended to be
consecrated on the second of December in the next year. The architect of this
building, is one of the reverend fathers of the school, and the works proceed under
his sole direction. The organ will be sent from Belgium.

In addition to these establishments, there is a Roman Catholic cathedral, dedi-
cated to Saint Francis Xavier ; and a hospital, founded by the munificence of a
deceased resident, who was a member of that church. It also sends missionaries
from hence among the Indian tribes.

The Unitarian church is represented, in this remote place, as in most other
parts of America, by a gentleman of great worth and excellence. The poor have

!.<£.

' **M-"*

I IIBWpi

mmmmm

10*;.

Af?icrican Notes.

good reason to remember and bless it ; for it befriends llicm, and aids the cause
of rational education, witlujut any sectarian or stilish views. It is liberal in all
its actions ; of kind construction ; and of wide benevolence.

There are three free-schools already erected, and in full operation in this city.
A fourth is buildinjj, and will soon be opened.

No man ever admits the unhealthinc s of the j)lace he dwells in (unless he is
going away from it), and I shall therefore, i have no doubt, be at issue with (he
inhabitants of St. Louis, in fpiestionin},' the perfect salubrity of its climate, and in
hinting that I think it must rather di>|)()se to fever, in the summer and autunin;d
seasons. Just adding, that it is very hot, lies among great rivers, and has vast
tracts of undrained swampy land around it, I leave the reader to form his own
opinion.

As I had a great desire to sec a Prairie b fore turning back from the furthest
point of my wanderings ; and as some gentlemen of the town had, in their hos-
pitable consideration, an ecpial desire to gratify me ; a day was lixed, before my
departure, for an expedition to the Looking-Cilass Prairie, which is within thirty
miles of the town. Deeming it possible that my readers may not object tc know
what kind of thing such a gipsy party may be at 'aat distance from home,
and among what sort of objects it moves, I will describe the jaunt in another
chapter

CHAPTER XIII.

A JAUNT TO THE LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE AND BACK.

I MAY premise that the word Prairie is variously pronounced paraaer^ parearer,
und paroarer. The latter mode of pronunciation is perhaps the most in favour.

We were fourteen in all, and all young men : indeed it is a singular though
very natural feature in the society of these distant settlements, that it is mairily
composed of adventurous persons in the jirime of life, nnd has very few grey
heads among it. There were no ladies : the trip being a fatiguing one : and we
were to start at five o'clock in the morring punctually.

I was called at four, that I might be certain of keeping nobody v/aiting ; and
having got some bread and milk for breakfast, threw up the window and looked
down into the street, expecting to see the whole party busily astir, and great pre-
parations going on below. But as everything was very quiet, and the street pre-
sented that hopeless aspect with which five o'clock in the morning is famihar
elsewhere, I deemed it as well to go to bed again, and went accordingly.

I awoke again at seven o'clock, and by that time the party had assembled, and
were gathered round, one light carriage, with a very stout axletree ; one some-
thing on wheels like an amateur carrier's cart ; one double phaeton of great
antiquity and unearthly construction ; one gig with a great hole in its back and a
broken head; and one rider on horseback who was to go on before. I got into
the first coach with three companions ; the rest bestowed themselves in the other
vehicles; two large baskets were made fast to the lightest; two large stone
jars in wicker cases, technically known as demi-johns, were consigned to the
"least rowdy" of the party for safe-keeping; and the procession moved oft"
to the ferry-boat, in which it was to cross the river bodily, men, horses, car-
riages, and all, as the manner in these parts is. ,. >.

i

•; fi

I

Throiijih the Bush,

IC5

1, hoi-ses, car-

We {,'ot over tlu* river in due course, and mustered again before a little
wooden box on wheels, hove down all aslant hi a morass, with '• mk.kchant
'lAri.oR'* painted in vcrylaif,'e Utters over the door. Having settled the order
of procee(hnfj, and the road to be taken, we stalled ofl" onee more and b'.gan to
nialte our way through an ill-favoured lihiclc Hollow, called, IcbS expressively,
the American Bottom.

The previous tlay had been — not to say hot, for the term is weak and lukewarm
in its power of conveying an idea of the temperature. The town had been on
lire ; \n a blaze. But at night it had come on to rain in torrents, and all night
long it had rained without cessation. We had a pair of very strong horses, but
travelled at the rate of little more than a couidc of miles u.i hour, through one un-
broken slough of black mud and water. It ^ad no variety but in depth. Now it
was only half over the wheels, now it hid chc axletree, and now the coach sank
down in it almost to the windows. The air resounded in all directions with the
loud chirping of the frogs, who, with the pigs (a coarse, ugly breed, as unwhole-
some-looking as though they were the spontaneous growth of the country), had
the whole scene to themselves. Heic and there we passed a log hut : but the
wretched cabins were wide apart and thinly scattered, for though the soil is very
rich in this place, few people can exist in such a deadly atmosphere. On either
side of the 'rack, if it deserve the name, was the thick " bush ;" and cver)'whcro
was stagnant, slimy, rotten, filthy water.

As it is the custom in these parts to give a horse a gallon or so of cold water
whenever he is in a foam with heat, we halted for that purpose, at a log inn in
the wood, far removed fn)m any other residence. It consisted of one room, bare-
roofed and bare-walled of course, with a loft above. The ministering priest was
a swarthy young savage, in a shirt of cotton print like bed-furniture, and a pair
of ragged trousers. There were a couple of young boys, too, nearly naked, lyingv
idly by the well ; and they, and he, and t/ie traveller at the inn, turned out to lool^
at us.

' The traveller was an old man with a grey gristly beard two inches long, a
shaggy moustache of the same hue, and enormous eyebrows ; which almost
obscured his la/.y, scmi-(huiiken glance, as he stood regarding us with folded
arms : ])oising himself alternately upon Ids toes and heels. On being addressed
by one of the party, he drew nearer, and said, rubbing his chin (which scraped
under his homy hand like fresh gravel beneath a nailed shoe), that he was from
Delaware, and had lately bought a farm "down there," pointing into one of the
marshes where the stunted trees were thickest. He was "going," he added, to
St. Louis, to fetch his family, whom he had left behind ; but he seemed in no
great hurry to bring on these incumbrances, for when we moved away, he loitered
back into the cabin, and was plainly bent on stojiping there so long as his money
lasted. He M-as a great politician of course, and explained his opinions at some
length to one of our company ; but I only remember that he concluded with two
sentiments, oneof which was, Somebody for ever; and the other, Blast everybody
else ! which is by no means a bad abstract of the general creed in these matters.

When the horses were swollen out to about twice their natural dimensions
(there seems to be an idea here, that this kind of inflation improves their going),
we went forward again, through mud and mire, and damp, and festering heat,
and brake and bush, attended always by the music of the frogs and pigs, until
nearly noon, when we halted at a place called Belleville.

Belleville was a small collection of wooden houses, huddled together in the veiy
heart of the bush and swamp. Many of them had singularly bright doors of red
and yello%; for the place had been lately visited by a travelling painter, *<\vlio
:ot along," as I was told, " by eating his way." The criminal court was sitting,

ic6

AmmcdH Notes.

Ml

Mm

\ i

/i^'

aiul was at that momciU Iryiii},' soino ci iniinals (or horsc-slcaling : with whom it
wouhl most hkcly j^o hard : lot live slotk ol' all kinds i)cin^ necessarily veiy nnuli
exjK)scd in lh(> woods, is held by the coninuniity in Hither liij^dier value than luniim j
life; and lor this reason, juries j^enerally make a jioint ol" lindiiig uU men indiidl *
for cattle-stealin}^, guilty, whether or no.

'Phe horses heh)n};in}4 to the bar, the jud^^e. and witnesses, were tied to ((Mii-
poraiy racks set up rouj^hly in the road; by which is to be understood, a loiti
j)alh, nearly knee-ilei^p in mud and slime.

There was an hotel in (his place, which, like all hotels in America, hail its laij^c
ilininj^-room for the public (able, It was an odd, shaniblinj;, low-rotjfed outdioiisc,
lialf-cowshed and halfdiitehen. with a coarse brown canvas table-cloth, and (in
sconces stuck against the walls, to hold candles at su]iper-time. The horscm:ui
had j^onc forward to have colVce and son\e eatables prepared, and they W(Me !iv
tliis time nearly ready. Jle had ordcicil "wheat-bread and chicken li.\inj,'s," jn
]ueferencc to "corn-biead and C()mnu)n domj^s." The latter kind of refection
includes only i^ork and bacon. The foiniei- comjucheuds broiled ham, saus.i^^i ,,
veal cutlets, steaks, and such other viands of that nature as may be supposed, li^
a tolerably wide poetical construction, "to fix" a chicken comfortably in tlu
di^^eslivc orj^ans of any lady or {gentleman.

On one of the do(M-posts at this inn, was a tin idale, whereon was inscribed in
characters of j;old, "Doctor Crocus ;" and on a sheet of i>aper, pasted up by tlic
side of this )ilate, was a written announcement that Dr. ('rocus would that cvcuini^'
deliver a lecture on ]*]irenoh>i^y for tlie benefit of the Belleville public ; at a charj^c,
for admission, of so much a head,

Strayinj^ uji-stairs, tlurinj^ the preparation of the chicken fixinj^s, I happened to
pass the doctor's chamber ; and as the door stood witle open, and the room w.is
empty, I made bold to peep in.

It was a bare, unfurnished, comfortless room, with an unframed portrait han^ini,'
up at the head of the bed ; a likeness, I take it, o^ the Doctor, for the foreheai!
was fully disjdaycd, and i^rcat sliess was laid by the aitist ui)on its phrenolo^^icil
develojiments. Jhe bed itself was covered with an old patch-work counterpane.
The room was destitute of carpet or of curtain. There was a damp fne-pkux-
without any stove, full of wood aslies ; a chair, and a very small table; and on
the last-named piece of furnituie was ilisjilayed, in grand array, the doctor's library,
consisting; of some half-tlozen !:;rcasy old books.

Now, it certainly looked about the hast apartment on the whole earth out of
■which any man would be likely to <;et anythin;^ to do him <;ood. But the dot)r,
as I liave said, stood coaxingly open, and plainly said in conjunction with the
chair, the portrait, the table, and the books, "Walk in, gentlemen, walk in 1
Don't be ill, gentlemen, when you may be well in no time. Doctor Crocus is
here, gentlemen, the celel)iated Dr. ( aocus ! Doctor Crocus has come all this
way to cure you, gentlemen. If you haven't heard of Dr. Crocus, it's your faidt,
gentlemen, who live a little way out of the Avorld here ; not Dr. Crocus's. Walk
in, gentlemen, walk in !"

In the passage below, whew I went down-stairs again, was Dr. Crocus himself.
A crowd had tlocked in from the Court House, and a voice from among them
called out to the landlord, " Colonel ! introduce Doctor Crocus."

" Mr. Dickens," says the colonel, " Doctor Crocus."

Upon which Doctor Crocus, who is a tall, fine-looking Scotchman, but rather
fierce and warlike in ap])earance for a professor of the peaceful art of healing,
bursts out of the concourse with his right arm extended, and his chest tlirown out
as far as it will possibly come, and says :

"Your countryman, sir !" ' *

'H

>'

be- ■^■'*^-

Doctor Croi'Ns.

107

iliiif,' ; with whom ;i
x'cssarily voiv imi,:,
n- vahic than hiin),,.;
inj,' all men indiiiri

i, were tied to (.mi,.
understood, a Ion ,.

iicrica, had its lu;.,
vv-roofed out-hons'i'.
ai)le-cloth, and in,
10. The horsciiiiii
and they were |,y
I'hielven lixin;;s," i;,
" hind of rereriinii
led jiani, saus.i}M .,
ly I)e supposed J,'
:ondbita!)ly in th,

)n was inserihcd i:i
', pasted up l)v du.
vould that eveiiiii-
■iblie ; at a char;-!',

i.tjs, I liajipencd to
nid the room was

1 portrait han^^diii^r
for the forehciil

its plnenolojTJij]

f)rlv eounterpaiK'.

X chnnji fue-j)Iacc
n table ; and On

I doctor's library,

olc earth out of
But the iloor,
mction wilii the
emcn, walk in I
'oetor Crocus is
[is come all tliis
', it's your fault,
'rocus's. A\'a]k

ICrocus himself.
In among them

pan, but rather

art of he.ding.

lest thrown out

WHicreupon Doctor Crocus and I shake hands ; and Doctor Crocus looks an if
I (h<liri by any means realise his expectations, which, in a linen blou <■, and a
j,Teat straw hat, with a peen ril)!)on, and no j,doves, and niy face and nose pro-
fusely ornamented with the stin^;-. of mos(iuitoes and the bites of bui;s, it is very
likely 1 did not.

•• Lon}4 in tliese parts, sir ? " says I.

" Three or four months, sir," says the Doctor.

" Do you think of soon returniu}^ to the old country } " says I.

Doctor (Crocus makes no verbal answer, but jjives me an imploring,' look, which
says so jdaiuly " Will you ask me that af,'ain, a little hmder, if you please ? " that
I rej)eal the (jue-.lion.

" I'iiink of soon returning,' t) the old c(^;.niry, sir ! " repeats the Doctor.

«' To the ohl country, sir," 1 ujoin.

Doctor Crocus looks round upon tne crowd to observe the clFcct he produces,
rubs his hands, and says, in a very loud voice :

" Not yet awhile, sir, not yet. ' You won't catch me at that just yet, sir. I am
a little too fond of freedom for that, sir. J la, ha ! It's not so easy for a man to
tear himself from a free country such as this is, sir. lla, ha ! No, no! 11a, ha !
None of that till one's obliged to do it, sir. No, no ! "

As Doctor Crocus says these latter words, he shakes his head, knowinj^dy, and
auf^hs af,' un. iNfany of'the bystanders sliake their heads in concert with the (loctor,
and lau<4h too, and look at each other as much as to say, *' A pretty bright and first-
rate sort of chap is Crocus ! " and unless 1 am very much mistaken, a good many
people went to the lecture that night, who nc\'er thought about phrenology, or
about Doctor Crocus either, in all their lives before.

l'"rom Jielleville, we went on, through the same desolate kind of waste, and
constantly attended, without the interval of a moment, by the same music; until,
at three o'clock in llie afternoon, we halted once more at a village called Lebanon
to inflate the horses again, and give them some corn besides : of which they
stood much in need. J 'ending this ceremony, I walked into the village, where I
met a full-sized dwelling-house coming down-hill at a round trot, drawn by a
score or more of oxen.

'Jlie public-house was so very clean and good a one, that the managers of the
jaunt resolved to return to it and put \\\) tliere for the night, if possible. This
comse decide<l on, and the horses being well refreshed, we again pushed foi-ward,
and came upon the Prairie at sunset.

It would be diilicult to say why, or how— though it was possibly from having
heard and read so much about it— but the effect on me was disappointment.
Looking towards the setting sun, there lay, stretched out before my view, a vast
exi)anse of level groun<l ; unbroken, save by one thin line of trees, which scarcely
amounted to a scratch uj^on the great blank ; until it met the glowing slcy, wherein
it seemed to dip : mingling with its rich colours, and mellowing in its flistant
blue. There it lay, a tranquil sea or lake without water, if such a simile be ad-
missible, with the day going down upon it : a few birds wheeling here and there :
and solitude and silence reigning paramount around. But the grass was not yet
high ; there were bare black patches on the ground ; and the few wild flowers that
the eye could see, were poor and scanty. Great as the j)icture was, its very flat-
ness and extent, which left nothing to the imagination, tamed it down and cramped
its interest. I felt I'ttle of that sense of freedom and exhilaration which a Scottish
■ heath inspires, or even our English downs awaken. It was lonely ?x\d wild, but
oppressive in its barren monotony. I felt that in traversing the Prairies, I could
f never abandon myself to the scene, forgetful of all else ; as I should do instinctively,
\ were the heather underneath my feet, or an iron-bound coast beyond ; but should

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American Notes.

I! m^

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li

often glance towards the distant and frequently-receding line of the horizon, aiul
wish it gained and passed. It is not a scene to be forgotten, but it is scarcely one,
I think (at all events, as 1 saw it), to remember with much pleasure, or to cowt
the looking-on a<^Min, in after life.

We encamped near a solitary log-house, for the sake of its water, and dined
upon the plain. The baskets contained roast fowls, buffalo's tongue (an exquisite
dainty, by the way), ham, bread, cheese, and butter ; biscuits, champagne, sherry ;
lemons and suga/for punch ; and abundance of rough ice. The meal was delicious,
and the entertainers were the soul of kindness and good humour. I have often
recalled that cheerful party to my jjleasant recollection since, and shall not easily
forget, in junketings nearer home with friends of older date, my boon companion'^s
on the Prairie.

Returning to Lebanon that night, we lay at the little inn at which we had halted
in the afternoon. In point of cleanliness and comfort it would have suflered by no
comparist)n with any English alehouse, of a homely kind, in England.

Rising at live o'clock next morning, I took a walk about the village : none of
the houses were strolling about to-day, but it was early for them yet, perhaps : and
tlien amused myself by lounging in a kind of farm-yard behind the tavern, of which
the leading features were, a strange jumble of rough sheds for stables ; a rude
colonnade, built as a cool place of summer resort; a deep well; a great earthen
mound for keeping vegetables in, in winter time ; and a pigeon-house, whose little
apertures looked, as they do in all pigeon-houses, very much too small for the
admission of the plump and swelling-breasted birds who were strutting about it,
though they tried to get in never so hard. That interest exhausted, I took a survey
of the inn's two parlours, which were decorated with coloured prints of Wash-
ington, and President Aladison, and of a white-faced young lady (much speckled
by the flies), who held up her gold neck-chain for the admiration of the spectator,
and informed all admiring comers that she was " Just Seventeen :" although I
should have thought her older. In the best room were two oil portraits of the
kit-cat size, representing the landlord and his infant son ; both looking as bold
as lions, and staring out of the canvas with an intensity that would have been
cheap at any price. They M'cre painted, I think, by the artist who had touched
up the Belleville doors with red and gold ; for I seemed to recognise his style
immediately.

After breakfast, we started to return by a diflerent way from that which we had
taken yesterday, and coming up at ten o'clock with an encampment of German
emigrants carrying their goods in carts, who had made a rousing fire which they
were just quitting, stopped there to refresh. And very pleasant the fire was; for,
hot though it had been yesterday, it was quite cold to-day, and the wind blew
keenly. Looming in the distance, as we rode along, was another of the ancient
Indian burial-places, called The Monks' Mound ; in memory of a body of fanatics
of the order of La Trappe, who founded a desolate convent there, many years ago,
when there were no settlers within a thousand miles, and were all swept off by
the pernicious climate : in which lamentable fatality, few rational people will sup-
pose, perhaps, that society experienced any very severe deprivation.

The track of to-day had the same features as the track of yesterday. There
was the swamp, the bush, and the perpetual chorus of frogs, the rank unseemly
growth, the un-vvholesome steaming earth. Here and there, and frequently too,
M'e encountered a solitary broken-down waggon, full of some new settler's goods. It
was a pitiful sight to see one of these vehicles deep in the mire ; the axle-tree
broken ; the wheel lying idly by its side ; the man gone miles away, to look for
assistance ; the woman seated among their wandering household gods with a
baby at her breast, a picture of forlorn, dejected patience ; the team of oxen

An affair of honour.

; of the horizon, aiul
5Ut It IS scarcely one
pleasure, or to covct

its water, and dined
tongue (an exquisite
champagne, sherry •
Jmealwasdcliciuiis'
'lour. I have often
and shall not easily
y boon companion^

'hich we had lialtcd
have suflered hv no
ngland.

lie village : none of
yet, perhaps : and

he tavern, of wliich
for stables ; a rude
1; a great earthen
house, whose little
too small for tlie
strutting about it,
ed, I took a survev
d prints of Wash'. ^
ly (much speckied
ti of the spectator,
een:" although I
1 portraits of tlie
h looking as bold
would have been
vho had touched
cognise his style

»at which we had
ment of German
: fire which they
he fire was ; for,
d the wind blew
!r of the ancient
body of fanatics i
many years ago, '
ill swept off by
people will sup- '

I
iterday. There I
rank unseemly
frequently too,
tier's goods. It
'■ ; the axle-tree t
•ay, to look for
I gods with a | {
team of oxen i

109

■^-

croucliing down mournfully in the mud, and breathing forth such clouds of vapour
from their mouths and nostrils, that ail the damp mist and fog around seemed to
have c(jme direct from them.

In due time we mustered once again before the merchant tailor's, and having
done so, crossed over to the city in the ferry-boat : passing, on the way, a spot
called Bloody Island, the duelling-ground of St. Louis, and so designated in
honour of the last fatal combat fought there, which was with pistols, l)reast to
breast. Both combatants fell dead ujjon the ground ; am' X)ssibly some rational
jK^ople may think of them, as of the gloomy madmen on the Monks' Mound, that
they were no great loss to the community.

CHAPTER XI^^

KIDE I'ROM THAT CITV TO
SO, liV LAKK KRIE, TO THE

RETURN' TO CINCIXXATI. A STAGE-COACH
COLUMBUS, AND THENCE TO SANUUSKV.
FALLS OE NLVGARA.

As I had a desire to travel through the interior of the state of Ohio, and to
" strike the lakes," as the phrase is, at a small town called Sandusky, to which
that route would conduct us on our way to Niagara, we had to return from
St. Louis by the way we had come, and to retrace our former track as far as
Cincinnati.

The day on which we were to take leave of St. Louis being veiy fine ; and the
steam-boat, which was to have started I don't know how early in the morning,
postponing, for the third or fourth time, her departure until the afternoon ; we
rode fonvard to an old French village on the river, called properly Carondelet,
and nicknamed Vide Poche, and arnuged that the packet should call for us
here.

The place consisted of a few poor cottages, and two or three public-houses ;
the state of whose larders certainly seemed to justify the second designation of
the village, for there was nothing to eat in any of them. At length, however, by
going back some half a mile or so, we found a solitary house where ham and
coffee were procurable ; and there we tarried to await the advent of the boat, which
woTild come in sight from the green before the door, a long Asay off.

It was a neat, unpretending village tavern, and we took our repast in a quaint
I'ttle room with a bed in it, decorated with some old oil paintings, which in
their time had probably done duty in a Catholic chapel or monastery. The
fare was veiy good, and served with great cleanliness. The house was kept by a
characteristic old couple, with whom we had a long talk, and who were perhaps a
ver)' good sample of that kind of people in the West.

The landlord was a dry, tough, hard-faced old fellow (not so very old either,
for he was but just turned sixty, I should think), who had been out with the
militia in the last war with England, and had seen all kinds of service, — except a
battle ; and he had been very near seeing that, he added : veiy near. He had
all his life been restless and locomotive, with an irresistible desire for change ;
and was still the son of his old self: for if he had nothing to keep him at home,
he said (slightly jerking his hat and his thumb towards the window of the room
in which the old lady sat, as we stood talking in front of the house), he would
clean up his musket, and be off to Texas to-moiTOW morning. lie was one of the
very many descendants of Cain proper to this continent, who seem destined from
tiieir birth to serve as pioneers in the great human army : who gladly go on from

-4 1

I

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ii.i

m

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American Notes.

year to year extending its outposts, and leaving home after home behind them ;
and die at last, utterly regardless of t'l>cir graves being left thousands of mile'
behind, by the wandering generation who succeed.

His wife was a domesticated kind-hearted old soul, who had come with him,
"from the queen city of the world," which, it seemed, was Philadelphia; but had
no love for this Western country, and indeed had little reason to bear it any ;
having seen her children, one by one, die here of fever, in the full prime aiul
beauty of their youth. Her heart was sore, she said, to think of them ; and to
talk on this theme, even to strangers, in that blighted place, so far from her old
home, eased it somewhat, and became a melancholy pleasure.

The boat appearing towards evening, we bade adieu to the poor old lady and
her vagrant spouse, and mrking for the nearest landing-place, were soon on board
The Messenger again, in our old cabin, and steaming down the Mississippi.

If the coming up this river, slowly making head against the stream, be an irk-
some journey, the shooting down it with the turbid cuircnt is almost worse ; for
then the boat, proceeding at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an hour, has to force
its passage through a labyrinth of floating logs, which, in the dark, it is often
impossible to see beforehand or avoid. All that night, the bell was never silent
for five minutes at a time ; and after eveiy ring tKe vessel reeled again, sometimes
beneath a single blow, sometimes beneath a dozen dealt in quick succession, the
lightest of which seemed mce than enough to beat in her frail keel, as though it
had been pie-crust. Looking down upon the filthy river after dark, it seemed to
be alive with monsters, as these black masses rolled upon the surface, or came
starling up again, head first, when the boat, in ploughing her way among a shoal
of such obstructions, drove a few among them for the moment under water.
Sometimes the engine stopped during a long interval, and then before her and
behind, and gathering close about her on all sides, were so many of these iil-
favoured obstacles that she was fairly hemmed in ; the centre of a floating island ;
and was constrained to pause until they parted, somewhere, as dark clouds will
do before the wind, and opened by degrees a channel out.

In good time next morning, however, we came again in sight of the detestable
morass called Cairo ; and stopping there to take in wood, lay alongside a barge,
whose starting timbers scarcely held toge*^^her. It was moored to the bank, and
on its side was painted "Coffee House;" that being, I suppose, the floating
paradise to which the people fly for shelter when they lose their houses for a month
or two beneath the hideous waters of the Mississippi. But looking southward
from this point, we had the satisfaction of seeing that intolerable river dragging
its slimy length and ugly freight abruptly off" tow^ards New Orleans ; and passing a
yellow line which stretched across the current, were again upon the clear Ohio,
never, I trust, to see the Mississippi more, saving in troubled dreams and night-
mares. Leaving it for the company of its sparkling neighbour, was like the
transition from pain to ease, or the awaker.' -g from a horrible vision to cheerful
realities.

We arrived at Louisville on the fourth night, and gladly availed ourselves of its
excellent hotel. Next day we went on in the Ben Franklin, a beautiful mail
steam-boat, and reached Cincinnati shortly after midnight. Being by this time
nearly tired of sleeping upon shelves, we had remained awake to go ashore straight-
way ; and groping a passage across the dark decks of other boats, and among
labyrinths of engine-machinery and leaking casks of molasses, we reached the
streets, knocked up the porter at the hotel where we had stayed before, and were,
to our great joy, safely housed soon afterwards.

We rested but one day at Cincinnati, and then resuroed our journey to Sandusky.
As it comprised two varieties of stage-coach travelling, which, with those I have

home behind (hem •
t thousands of miles

had come with ],!,„
iladelphia ; but had

Mississippi left behind.

1 1 I

11

ason
the

to bear

/"I pnmc and
nlv of them ; and (o
. so far from her old

poor old ]ady and
were soon on boaid
- Mississippi.
! stream, be an irk.
i almost worse ; fr,r
nhour, hastofoiTe
e dark, it is often
^\i was never silent
i again, sometimes
cic succession, the

keel, as though it
'ark, it seemed to
e surface, or came
'ay among a shoal
lent under water i^
en before her md
nany of these iil-
a floating island ;
dark clouds will

^f the detestable
ongside a barge,
to the bank, and
>se, the floating
uses for a month
liing southward
liver dragging
." and passing a
he dear Ohio,
ams and night-
was like the
ion to cheerful

ourselves of its
beautiful mail
: by this time
shore straight- |

and among
2 reached the
5re, and were,

to Sandusky,
those I have

.heady glanced at, comprehend the main characteristics of this mode of transit in

mcrica, I will take the reader as our fellow-passenger, and pledge myself to per-

loim the distance with all possible despatch.

Our place of destination in the first instance is Columbus. It is distant about

hundred and twenty miles from Cincinnati, but there is a macadamised road

rare blessing !) the whole way, and the rate of travelling upon it is six miles an

our.

We start at eight o'clock in the morning, in a great mail-coach, whose huge

ihccks are so very ruddy and plethoric, that it ajipcars to be troubled with a ten-

cncy of blood to the head. Dropsical it certainly is, for it will hold a dozen

assengeis inside. But, wonderful to add, it is very clean and bright, being nearly

lew ; and rattles through the streets of Cincinnati gaily.

Our way lies through a beautiful country, richly cultivated, and luxuriant in its

propuise of an abundant harvest. Sometimes we pass a held where the strong

I biihtling stalks of Indian corn look like a crop of walking-sticks, and sometimes

\ au enclosure where the green wheat is springing up among a labyrinth of stumps ;

' the primitive worm-fence is universal, and an ugly thing it is ; but the farms are

neatly kept, and, save for these differences, one might be travelling just now in

Kent.

We often stop to water at a roadside inn, which is always dull and si''mt. The

coachman dismounts and liils his bucket, and holds it to the horses' h LiS. There

y;is scarcely ever any one to help him ; there are seldom any loungers standing

.round ; and never any stable-company with jokes to crack. Sometimes, when we

have changed our team, there is a difficulty in starting again, arising out of the

r l)rcvalent mode of breaking a young horse : which is to catch him, harness him

■ against his will, and put him in a stage-coach without further notice : but we get
I on somehow or other, after a great many kicks and a violent struggle ; and jog on

as before again.

Occasionally, when we stop to change, some two or three half-drunken loafers

'will come loitering out with their hands m their pockets, or will be seen kicking

'< their heels in rocking-chairs, or lounging on the window-sill, or sitting on a rail

within the colonnade : they have not often anything to say though, either to us or

|to each other, but sit there idly staring at the coach and horses. The landlord

ft of the inn is usually among them, and seems, of all the party, to be the least con-

^ nected with the business of the hou^e. Indeed he is with reference to the tavern,

'what the driver is in relation to the coach and passengers : whatever happens in

' his sphere of action, he is quite indifferent, and perfectly easy in his mind.

The frequent change of coachmen works no change or variety in the coachman's

■ character. Pie is always dirty, sullen, and taciturn. If he be capable of smart-
ness of any kind, moral or physical, he has a faculty of conceahng it which is truly
man-ellous. He never speaks to you as you sit beside him on the box, and if you

, vSl)eak to him, he answers (if at all) in monosyllables. He points out nothing on

the road, and seldom looks at anything : being, to all appearance, thoroughly

weary of it and of existence generally. As to doing the honours of his coach, his

I business, as I have said, is with the horses. The coach follows because it is

I attached to them and goes on wheels: not because you are in it. Sometimes,

■ towards the end of a long stage, he suddently breaks out into a discordant hagment
% of an election song, but his face never sings along with him ; it is only his voice,
"and not often that.

^ He always chews and always spits, and never encumbers himself with a pocket-
s'handkerchief. The consequences to the box passenger, especially when the wind

blows towards him, are not agreeable.

Whenever the coach stops, and you can hear the voices of the inside pas-

^

■''!

mm

arrr^

ZI2

JmerUiui Notes.

tion whatever.)
Straw Wxv.
Brown IIm'.
vStraw Hat.
Brown Hat.
Straw Hat.

sen gets ; or whenever any bystander addresses them, or any one among them ; or,
they address each other ; you will hear one j)hrase repeated over and over lunl
over again to the most extiaordinary extent. It is an ordinary aad unproinisini,
jdnase enoiigli, being neither more nor less than "Yes, sir;" but it is jidipUij
to every variety of circumstance, and hlls up every pause in the conversalidn
Thus : —

The time is one o'clock at noon. The scene, a place where we arc to stav aii'!
dine, on this journey. The coach drives nj) to the door of an inn. The d,u
warm, and there are several idlers hngcring about the tave-n, and wailing for il,
p.ublic dimier. Among them, is a stout gentleman in a brown hat, swinging liiii .
self to and fro in a rocking-chair on the pavement.

As the coacli stops, a gentleman in a straw hat looks out of the window :
Si'RAW Hat. (To the stout gentleman in the rocking-chair.) I reckon tli,!!
Judge jelVerson, an't it ?

Bro'wn Hat. (Still swinging ; speaking very slowly; and without any eii.;.
Yes, sir.
Warm weather, Judge.
Y\^s, sir.

There was a snap of cold, last week.
Y'es, sir.
Y'cs, sir.

A pause. They look at each other, very seriously.

Straw Hat. I calculate you'll have got through that case of the corporation,
Judge, by this time, now }
Brown Hat. Yes, sir.

How did the verdict go, sir .''
For the defendant, sir.
(Interrogatively.) Y'es, sir?
(Atlirmativcly.) Y'es, sir.
(Musingly, as each gazes down the street.) Y''es, sir.
Another pause. They look at each other again, still more seriously than before.
Brown Hat. This coach is rather behind its tnne to-day, I guess.
(Doubtingly.) Y'cs, sir.
(Looking at his watch.) Y'es. sir; nigh upon two hours.

Straw Hat.
Brown Hat.
Straw-
Brown
Both.

Hat.
Hat,

Straw H.vt.
Brown Hai'.
Straw Hat.
Brown Hat.

sn

(Raising his eyebrows in very great surprise.) Yes,
(Decisively, as he puts up his watch,) Y'es, sir.

All the othf.r insidk Pas.sengers. (Among themselves.) Yes, sir.

Coachman. (In a very surly tone.) No it a'nt.

Straw Hat. (To the coachman.) \Vell, I don't know, sir. We were a pretty
(all time coming that last fifteen miiC. Tliat's a fact.

The coachman making no reply, and plainly declining to enter into any contro-
versy on a subject so Hrr removed from his sympathies and feelings, another ])as.
senger says, '* Y''es, sir ;" and the gentleman in the straw hat in acknowledgment
of his courtesy, says '* Y'es, sir," to him, in return. The straw hat then inquires
of the brown hat, whether that coach in which he (the straw hat) then sits, is not
a new one } To which the brown hat again makes answer, '* Y^'es, sir."

Straw Hat. I thought so. Pretty loud smell of varnish, sir ?

Brown Hat. Y'es, sir.

All the other inside Passengers. Y'es, sir.

Br'own Hat. (To the company in general.) Y'es, sir.

The conversational power's of the company having been by this time pretty
heavily taxed, the straw hat opens the door and gets out ; and all the rest alight
also. We dine soon afterwards with the boarders in the house, and have nothing

' ',■

Travelling all night.

>'3

onr amon^' thciu ; or
I over ;ui(| over ,iii,|
:uy a.ul uii[)i(,ini,,ii|,,
n;" Init it is a,I;,p(„'j
in the convcrsatimi.

re wo are to s(av .in,i
an inn. 'Jlic.tlay j,
, and waitinj; for 'n,,, f
n lial, swini^inu iij,,,; I

r llie window :
lii.) I reckon ih.if,

id willioul any cii:;. |

e of the corporation, f f

r.

riously than before, i
I guess. 1

3n two hours.

) _ Yes, sir !

sir.

cs.) Yes, sir.

We >vere a pretty

cr into any contro.
ings, another pas-
acknowledgment
hat then inquires
t) then sits, is not
es, sir."
ir.P

this time pretty
all the rest alight
and have nothing

to (It k but tea and coffee. As they are both very bad and the water is worse, I
ask for brp.n<ly ; but it is a Tcn>perancc Hotel, and spirits are not to be had for
love or money. This preposterous forcing of unpleasant drinks down the reluc-
tant throats of travellers is not at all uncommon in America, but I never discovered
that the scruples of such wincing landlords induced them to preserve any unusually
nice balance between the quality of their fare, and their scale of charges : on the
contrary, I rather suspected them of diminishing the one and exalting the other,
by w.-ty of recomj^ensc for the loss of their profit on the sale of spirituous liquors.
After all, peHiaps, the plainest course for persons of such tender consciences,
would be, a total abstinence from tavern-keeping.

Dinner over, we get into another vehicle which is ready at the door (for the
coach has been changed in the interval), and resume our journey; which continues
tlirouf^h the same kind of country until evening, when we come to the town where
{ we are to stop for tea and supper ; and having delivered the mail bags at the Fost-
onicc, ride through the usual wide street, lined with the usual stores and houses
(the drapers always having hung up at their door, by way of sign, a piece of bright
red cloth), to the hotel where this meal is prepared. There being many boarders
here, we sit down, a large party, and a very melancholy one as usual. But there
is a buxom hostess at the head of the table, and opposite, a simple Welsh school-
master with his wife and child ; who came here, on a speculation of greater pro-
mise than performance, to teach the classics : and they are suflicient subjects of
interest until the meal is over, and another coach is ready. In it we go on once
more, lighted by a bright moon, until midnight ; when we stop to change the
coach again, and remain for half an hour or so in a miserable room, with a blurred
lithograph of Washington over the smoky fire-place, and p mighty jug of cold
water or. the table : to which refreshment the moody passengers do so apply them-
selves that they would seem to be, one and all, keen patients of Dr. Sangrado.
Among them is a very little boy, who chews tobacco like a very big one ; and a
droning gentleman, who talks arithmetically and statistically on all subjects, from
poetry downwards ; and who always speaks in the same key, with exactly the
same emphasis, and with very grave deliberation. He came outside just now,
and told me how that the uncle of a certain young lady who had been spirited away
land married by a certain captain, lived in these parts ; and how this uncle was so
valiant and ferocious that he shouldn't wonder if he were to follow the said cap-
tain to England, " and shoot him down in the street wherever he found him ;" in
the feasibility of which strong measure I, being for the moment rather prone to
I contradiction, from feeling half asleep and very tired, declined to acquiesce :
Ij^assuring him that if the uncle did resort to it, or gratified any other little whim
f the like nature, he would find himself one morning prematurely throttled at
'ae Old Bailey : and that he would do well to make his will before he went, as
e would certainly want it before he had been in Britain very long.
On we go, all night, and by-and-by the day begins to break, and presently
he first cheerful rays of the warm sun come slanting on us brightly. It sheds
ts light upon a miserable waste of sodden grass, and dull trees, and squalid huts,
-hosx' aspect is forlorn and grievous in the last degree. A very desert in the
ood, whose growth of green is dank and noxious like that upon the top of
landing water : where poisonous fungus grows in the rare footprint on the oozy
ground, and sprouts like witches' coral, from the crevices in the cabin wall and
floor ; it is a hideous thing to lie upon the very threshold of a city. But it was
purchased years ago, and as the owner cannot be discovered, the State has been
unable to reclaim it. So there it remains, in the midst of cultivation and improve-
ment, like ground accursed, and made obscene and rank by some great crime.
j We reached Columbus shortly before seven o'clock, and stayed there, to re-

I

1^ fi^ m i^

^

f^ !■

lU

Amenti7» Srifcu

holoi rrtllrd tlw' ISrill Houm\ vnlrh urro virhly littnl with llu- piOislieil \vm,„|
<>1 \\w M;\iK \\i\liuit, ;\n<l opcnril on :» l);\nil'*iMUf' poili(n nml ^\n\)v v»M!Mi'l;ili,

I hv town |h rli'Hn :mil pvrllV, !Mii| itl
h is thr Hi'(\t i»l lln' St;<(p Irf^islihii.. ,,|
Ohio. t\\\i\ \Ay^A,\\\y'\, in ron'«r«pirn« c, 1i> "jonir ronnidrvmion :unl linpoihmrr.

Vhoir iMMnjJ no v(;tj^>r ro.U h nrxl dm. tipi>H »hr lO'Hl \\r \vi'<lli-il In 1:il(f'. I lii)i,|

" nn rxtvn," rtt -.x i^\\<M>n:U>U' »b:\«m\ io (;\n\ ti>» to liHin ; n '^nmll town imm
Nvhcnrc ihnr i!H n r!\iltt>;id lo S;indn>«lo . M\iH rxhjt \\:ix nn otilinmy (ntn lim
strtj^r-i-orvrh, s\U'h ;>■* 1 h,\\c ilrm nhrd. rh.u^iin^ hot«^^'^ mid dtivrm, ;m (li
<t,tjfr-avirh wotiM. 1"»n< w.is «^m In^nrly onv own I<m thr jotuntv. Im fitmiip ,.im
h.ivin^i hovvr<^ ;it «ht> pnip«M '.t;\iion«. and hcinj; i»ironit)\odi d l>\ no •;»t:iiiL;ii-.
the pi>>pvio(ovs «;rnt :in .^jftMK on tl\<" 1m>\, who wns lo m-i (Mnpi\nv ii! ihv wlinli'
WMV thn>\\^h ; :ind lhn'« ;><(rnd«"d. nnd Ixvnin^ with \\t, hi';i<h s, n hiunprt ImII
o< «iAVOinv told nuMls. a\v\ Innt. ;n\d w nu- ; wr slnHcd oH ^^^^^.\\\\ \u |)i|;h
spints, nt h.ih p,if«l si\ oMo»K nt^xJ n^ovninfj. vimv nnirh ih h|d\lnl lo hn l»v nm
solw^, nnd disposed \o rnjo\ « vrn lh(' 11^^1l;lu-'.t joninrv.

1( \v.is wvU 1o\ u--. \}\M w»' won^ in ihi^ Innnom. Un ihr i«>Md vm* wrnl ovct iImi
ii.iy, \Vrt<> c«M(i\M>lv tMioni^h \o h:\\v <*h:\lv< mi iimpns ih;i1 wric not ic'sohili h ii
Sot Fair, down to sonir iniho<< In^h^v St«>t\\n . ,\l onr liinr wt> wiu' ;dl (Innj
(oj::o(h«'i in :\ ho;\]"i M \]\c bottt^n o( ihr »o;irh, i\nd nl .inolhi-i wr wi-ir ( ii|.lnii!i
o\n ho.lds ,i^;\inst iho V(>ol. Nvnv, one Mdr w,«v down dr.p jti the inilr, Mini \\v
wou" hold\nj? on (x^ thf othov. Now.thr »o;uh w;m l\in^ on th«' Inils ol (lie
t\v«> wlu-rins ; ;\nd n<>w it w-ns ixMiinj^j np in \hv My, in n t'titnlir '*\:\{v, \v\\\\ nil
fy)\n horsos stiindmr on tin- top ol i\n in'^ininoinitithli' rnnnrncr, h»ol<in^ loollv
l\iok at it, ,is ihiMi*;!! tlioywvMihi s,\v "l'nh;nnov^ n-;. |( imi't Im- don«'." llu
dtivors on thovv^ nwtis, who iwl;ut>)v ^vt o\n thr >Monnd in ;\ niMnnrt whii l\ i-
qnito mivncnlons. ^o twi^t ;\nd tnvn th(> t<.nn ,d>oiil in lorrini; '\ p;ism\jr,>. roth'^uiw
fashion, thronj^h th<^ hv^^^s ;\nil sw.nup'-, tliat U \\;is (|uiii' a lonnnon citvuni^luii.
on h-Hikin^ ont oi" iho \vindv>\v, to soo the iO!\ihn\;in with the rndn of n pnii ■
reins in his h;mds, .■i]>p,i\xMitl\ dvixinj^ ntMhinij, or plwin^^ !\t hi»ter««, .-md il'
lendots stavinij M one \mo\p<HtodU fn^n \\\v o;\rlv o\ the eo;\(h. ms if they h.\A
some idea t'lt .tfottinjj np benind. A ^vent poition ol the w;\y was ovei wliai i-
calltxi a tN^vdunn- ixvid, \yhieh is \\\m\€ by throw inj; trtniKs ol tiee«< into s\ mni^'ii.
and loaxinc them to -^ettle thotv. Vho veiy shj^'itest y\{ the jo1(c; with which \\w
]><Mi*iorous ean-i;i^o fell trom lojj to loj;, was enou^^h, it seenu-d. to have disloi iicl
all (ho K^nes in the hnman body. It w«>uld be impossible to experienee » siinil.u
set of sensations, in anv other eiivnnistanecs. nnle'<s perhaps in atleinplin^ lo (m
up to the toj^ ot St. ranr^ in an omnibus. Never, nev<M «Mue, thai tiay. was ilu'
o<*>aeh in .-iny position, attitude, or kind o\' motion to w hieh we are aeenslotned in
ooaehos. ?<e\ei did it mako (ho smallost approaeh tvi one's oxpericnec o\ tlu'
pn-H-Oivlinp^ ol anv sort of vohiolo thai j^oe^ (Vn wheels.

Still, it xvas a fine day, an<l the temp<Matine was delieioii^, and thoiif^h we li.iii
loft Summor behird ns in the west, and were fast leavin^^ Spring, xvo wore nioviiii;
towards XiajiT-^ra and IivMmo. Wo alii^htovl in a pleasant woovl (ow.irds llio
middlo of the day. vlined on a fallon tree, and lea\inj; our best fiai;nienls with i
ooltai:^or. and our xroi>t with tho pij^ (who swarm in this part of the eoiintiy liKc
gfiains of sand on tho soa-shoro. to tho pxwt conifoit of our conuni.ssariat in
Canada^, x^o xvent forward ac-'^i". ,C-^>b'-

As nicrht camo on, tho (rack c'^'^^ nanowor and nanowei, until at last il •-o
lo<:t itself amon^ tho troos. that tho <liivor so<Mnotl to lind his way by instiiul.
W> had tho comfon of knowing, at loast, tliat thoix^ was no danj^cr of liis falliiii;
asleep, for every now and then a wlieol would stiikc against an unseen stump

''^■Jti: ..

tff>f>ff' ftftftt^Nt^y.

Ht;

iPtV ItHPr lltirtiUMlirtl
till- pMli^lwil \V,„,(|

ml >ili>tU' vri;Mii| ih,
!inil ptrHv, iiD'l i.|
S(;ilf lr(ii«ln)liir n|

iht'il (n lnl(('. I liii, I
M 'iWwW imvn Ihmu

OIlliUMtV 1"IH llMlM'

\\\i\ iltiM-m, MM ||„.
U'V. I <» rumilf nut
■il hv nn Mlt;iMt;i'i^,
ipniiv Hm ihi- ulml,.
idts, 11 hMiiiiuM lull
oU i\\T:\\\\ it) lui'li
I'llh'tl 111 he hv iiiit

il \M> well! \)\v\ ll\ \i

ic tml icmilnli I\ .t

u' \Vi» Wrvr nil lluii!;

't we Wi'W cnr liuir

in llu' Mliir, nml \\r

on (111' fnih nl ilic

■.\\\\'u ^\M{\ witli ill

'\uv, loi)l<inu «i*nllv

\\'[ \)v (Ituir. ' The

\ :\ \WM\\\vy wliit l( i<

)';»ssnj4C, immI<S( irw

nnon ciirunislMiin'

' »>nils (>(' !\ p;iii nl

I hoisrs, nnd ilir

rh, ns ir dun' h.i'i

\' \Vi\s ovef wlial i^

drc'! inlo :i ni.u^li,

'!('; Willi wliicli ttit'

to li;\vi' ilisloiiili'tl

xpnicncr ;i similii

1 ;UhMnptin^ lo i;ii

(l\;U i\.\\\ \V;i^ Itu'

;nr ;\i'i'\islonu-tl in

oxpoiionrc ol (h('

nxl ihotif^h \vr had
^, \vr wiMv inoviii!;
VOOtI (ow.utN llu"
;( riai;nu'nls with ;i
M' iho ('(Miiitiy lil^o
11" counnissajial in

umil at last il ^o

s way h\ instiiul.

Uf^cr of liis falliiii;

an unseen stump

«*

Milli ""iK'H II ]'•>!<. Il' '• ''^' ^'"•« f"*" '" ''"''' "" |"^''"y '*K''* ""'' ptHty '|ii((l<, Iff
ki'cp hlin«f'l( Mpnfi Ihr Iimi. Nn» n:m flt'if nny ifnmin »o 'Irfri'l Hir« Irjinf rlrin^r>r
limn iMtioio ilil\i»u;. Inim'tHK li :i' "v<'» fli.tl lunf.-ffi nfoiirifl llif horMfs hrul ^nMtlJ»h
In .|m In w;iII( : MM i»t ':|i\iM|,', tli'M' vv.'C^ IIM joniri (nr Jliif; rifi'l ;i ItfffI of vvil'l
ilrpliiuil'i rniiM nut hiivp llltl IIWMV Im Miirli ji wnnd, Willi '^lirfi n rtr.xh nf thfir
hrrU. So we '^llinililf<l ildli)'. (|llilf HMli-lifd.

jlu-if MliiinpM ol lM•^^ mm- ii (iiiloim l(:ifiilf ill Ainffir.iM Jriivrllifijj. 'f^|^
ViMvi'U' illii^ioM'^ llirv pir^rnf lo llif ini(ir»il'^f(>Mif/| ry^ fm It (»row«< 'lfifl<, nrf rjitilr
n<^loiii'<)iiiij» in tluii inniilwi miwI icnlilv. N"\v. (Iifrr i-^ n ('tri'i'uiu urn r-ffffrH
In llii- I rnln- o( I loinU III I'l ; now IIm-ip h a wofTi;in w»rpifi|j nt a t<irfil> ; now
n \i-iv toMiiimn plnr mM ^-•||||»■Ml;ln in a wliitf w li^l'oiil, vvrtli .'i fhiirrili ihriist
inlo cMili ami lioir ol lijq coal ; now a Hfiiilciil porinj^ on m liook ; now n rrrmth-
iii!' in'i'io; iiiiw. ;i lio|i;c, :i 'lojf, !i « innoii, ;in HUM 'I niiin , .'i InifK It Icuk IhrfrW-
iiii; oil liiM ( loaU ai,il '^li-ppiiiy loilli inlo llic lij,'lil. I licy wrif oKfn ;k Mifrrliininj*
io ini; as ^o inativ m'"'^'^*"* '" " u\:\i['\i- lanliin, aiifl fifvrf lri<ik thfir «<hapr«» nl my
liiiltlinj^. lull ^rrmcil |o louf Ili(iimflvf4 upon iiM-, wIicHmt \ wonl'l or no;
aii'l lianiM' to '^av, I '^oini'linii'M ifi o(»ni',('(| in lliMii f oiinlrrp.irt') of fi(/iiM'«;
om I' lainiliar lo inr in pii Inn 4 mII;i( Ik»I Io < llil'li'^ll liool<i;, lortyiMrn lonj; a(;o,

II flODii Itccaiiii" loo ilaih. Iiowi'via. rvni lot fliis ainiispfiiMit, ari'l fhf Iff^s wrre

m> < lor lo|irl|i('i lliilllirii ill V I '• ;iiii li< • iilll'il ajjiiiiml I Iip i riar li on fif li'-r --i'lp,

ami ohlij^rii us nil lo lu-cp oiii In- aih williin. Il lij^lilrni'l loo, lor Ihrff wfir<lfr

lioiiiM ; ra» h Hash iH-iiij; vny lniKhl, and lilnr, and lon^ ; and an th^ vi'dd «tr^ak«

|(aiiic diMlinij in anions; Ihr riovvdid Ixaiii Ihn. and fh'* thniKhr rolled (doornily

; aliovf Ihr lice lop'*, onr loiild 4( ;im rly In Ip lliinl<iii^' that IIm r«' wrc l;rftcr rir'tyh-

\ l»ouihood<; al mi< h a liiiir IIimii lliiil< wood^ alloidcd,

Al li'M^lh. Iiclwrrn lin and i Irvrii o't lorU al nij^lit. a ffw Tor-Mr lights apprarfd
n Ihr ilisl.Mu i\ and I'pprr Sandusky, an liifjiaii villajjf, whrro wc were to stay
ill lno^nin^,^ lay hrloir ii>^.

Ihry wcrr jronr !o l»rd al Ihr loj^ Inn, wliirli w;i<> Ihr only liotisc f)f fmtr>rtnin-
Ht'iM in (hr platr. Init mooii an'uvcrcd lo out knoikinj;, ;ind j^ot somr tr;i for (i<<
ilia soil of Kilchrn oi comnuin room, laiic^liicd with old ri«W'-;[iapfrH, pn<<ir(i
gains! Ihr wall. Ihr linl-rhamliri lo wliii li my wile and I wore sliown, wa« a
fv, low, f^hoslly loom ; with a «|iianlily ol withcicd hranchcs <>n Iho hparth,
Iwo (loots wilhoiil any lastrninj;, opposilr lo r.u h oflua, holh r»pfninj^' on the
ck nij^hl and wild ronnlry, and so ronliivrd, thai onr of thrrri always l»lrw the
ithcr oprji : a iiovrlly in domrslic ajrhilocliiie, wliii h I do nf>t rcmr-mher to have
cii li(doro, and whit h I was somrwhal disronc cdrd to hav(! forrfd on my atten-
tion altrr K''lti"K '"t<> l'<"d, as I had a considrraldc sum in j^f^ld ff;r rniT
.travcllinj^' cxprnscs, in my drrssin^-casr, Somr of Ihr Inj^'j^'j^r, howrver, pilrd
"gainst the panels, soon srilird (his dillicully, and my slcfp would not have l>een
iiy miu'h all'rcU'd that nijdil, I ladicv*-, Ihoii^h il had faihd to do so.
My MoHlon IViriid (dinili(-i| iit) to bed, somewhere in IIk; rr^of, where another
lest was already snoritif,' liu(,'ely. But licinj; bitten beyond his pf>wcr of enrlnr-
ico, he lurnc<l out a)i,'ain, and fled lor shelter to the ((jadi, whicli wa'? airinjj
Itself in front of the house. This was not a very [)olitic ste[>, as it turned oiit ;
>r the pi^'s sccntin^ him, and looking,' upon tlic eoach as a kind of pie with
me maimer of meat inside, grunted round it so liiileously, that he wa.s afraid to
>nie out a^'ain, and lay there shiverinj,', till mc;rnin^. Nor was it possible to
JWann him, when he did come out, by mean;: of a ^dass of brandy : for in Indian
irilluKes, tlie legislature, with a very ^ood aufl wise intention, ff>rbids the sale of
)irits by tavern keepers. The preeaution, however, is fjuite inefficacious, for the
jdians never fail to procure liquor of a worse kind, at a dearer price, from travel-
og pedlars.

»"

h

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m

li

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mm

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11

111

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ii6

JmcriiUiH Notes.

It is ft settlement of the WyaiuhU Indians who inhabit thin phice. Amonj" the
company i\t bicaklast was a mihl oKI mndcman, who had hrcn lor many yc.irs
cmnloycd l>y llu' Unitoil Slates (iovcrnnunl in conduilinj; negotiations nviIImIk
Indians, and who had just c-omhulcd a treaty with these pe»)ple by which i|i,y
bonnd themsehet, in consideration of a eeitam anniial smn, to remove next yiMt
to some land provitled lor them, west of the Mississippi, ami a little way hcyoii.l
St. I.ouis. He ^ave me a moving aecounl of llieii stronj;; altaehment lo (h,
famihar scenes ol their infancy, anvl in paitienlar to the hurial-jtlaees ol ilmt
kindred; and of their >,'reat rebicta»'ce to leave them, lie had witnessetl in.mv
snch temovals, ami always with pain, thoiij^h he knew that they tiepartcd Kr
their own j^ood. Tlie (piestion whether this tribe should j^o or slay, had hcvw
discussed amouj,' them a day or two l)eft)re, in a hut erected lor the purnosc, the
lofjs t)f which still lay upon the j^I'muuI before the inn. When the speakiuj,' wis
ilone, the ayes and noes were ranj^ed on opposite sides, and every nude m\\\\\
voted in his turn. The moment the re^dt was known, the nnuorily (a knye oik;
cheerfully yiehled to the rest, and withdrew all kind of opjiosilion.

We met some of these poor Indians afterwards, riding on sha^j^y ponies. 'Ilicy
were so like the meaner soit of j^ipsies, that if 1 could have seen any of (luni in
Mnj^land, I should have concluded, as a matter of course, that they belon^cil lo
that wandering and restless people.

Lcavinjj this town directly after bre.akfast, we i-mshed forward again, over n
rather worse road than yestenlay, if possible, and arrived about noon at lilliii,
where we parted with the extra. At two o'clock v.e look t'.c railroad ; the
travellinj; on which was very slow, its construction beinj; imlilVercnt, and the
pounil wet and marshy ; and arrived at Sandusky in time to dine that evening',
Wo put up at a comfortable lillle hotel on the brink of Lake h'.rie, lay there tii.it
nijjht, and had no choice but to wail there next day, until a sleam-lipat bound for
Bud'alo ajipearevl. The town, which was sluj^j^ish and uninlereslinj^ enough, \v;b
iiomethin}; like the back o{ an Kuj^jlish waterinf;-i)laee, out t)f the season.

Our host, who was very attentive and anxious to make us comfortable, was a
handsome middle-aged man. who had come to this town from New England, in
which part of the country he was "raised." When I say that he constantly
walked in and out of the room with his hat on ; and stopped to converse in Ihc
same free-and-easy state ; and lay down on our sofa, ami pulled his newspaper
out of his pocket, and read it at his ease ; 1 merely mention these traits as charac-
teristic of the country : not at all as being matter of complaint, or as having been
disagii able tu me. I should undoubtedly be oflended by such proceedings at
home, because there they are not the custom, and where they are not, they wouKl
be impcrtinencies ; but in America, the only desire of a good-natured fellow of
this kind, is to treat his guests hospitably and well ; and I had no more right,
and I can truly say no more disjiosition, to measiire his conduct by our English
rule and standard, than I had to quanel with him for not being of the exact stature
which would qualify him for admission into the Queen's grenadier guards. As
little inclination had I to find fault with a funny old lady who was an upper
domestic in this establishment, and who, when she came to wait upon us at any
meal, sat hereelf down comfortably in the most convenient chair, and producing
a large pin to pick her teeth with, remained performing that ceremony, and stead-
fastly regarding us meanwhile with much gravity and composure (now and then
pressing us to eat a little more), until it was time to clear away. It was enough
for us, that whatever we wished done was done with great civility and readiness,
and a desire to oblige, not only here, but eveiywhere else ; and that all our wants
were, in general, zealously anticipated.

dinner at this house, on t

taking

irly

day

1 place. Anioiij,' ihc
lu'OM (or many yc.if,
lU'j^oliiitions Willi ti,,.
•oplc by whirli ili,y
(o riMuovc next ycu
I a liulo way luyond
[ attarhmciil to (|„,
)unal-placcs ol diiir
\\i\i\ witnessed in.iny
il llicy (Icpailetl lor
;o or stay, had bn„
'. lor tlic pin nose, tin.
len the speakin;; wis
nd every male a. lull
linority (a lar^'c one)
lion.

ia^j},7 ponies. 'Ihoy
seen any of tliein jn
lal Ihey helonf^ed to

Cli'vcliifid,

117

ward a^ain, over a
)out noon at riHin,
k (1,e railroad ; the
indiHerent, and thf
0 dine that cveiiiii;:.

Mrie, lay there that
Icam-bpat bound for
restinj^ enough, was
he season,
comfortable, was a
11 New England, in

that he constantly

to converse in the
tiled his newspaper
esc traits as charac-

or as having been
uch proceedings at
are not, they wouki
d-natured fellow of
jad no more rij,']il,
uct by our English
of the exact stature
ladicr guards. As
who was an upper
^lit upon us at any
air, and producing
fcmony, and stead-
-iure (now and then
y. It was enough
ility and readiness,

that all our wants

J after our anival,

\

\\\\\k\\ was Sunday, when a steam-boat came In sight, and presently tcmehed at the
whail. As -he pioved to be (»n her way to Hullalo, we hurried on board with all
pecil, ami soon left Sandusky far behind us.

She was a large vessel of live hundted tons, and handsomely fitlefl up, though
with high-pressure engines ; wliiih always eonveycd thai kind of Itcling to me,
wlii( h I sh(»uld be likely to experience, I think, if I had |i»dgings on the hrst-lloor
ol a powtler-mill. She was laden with llotn, some casks o( which commodity
wtie stoied up(»n the dec k. '! he captain coming up to have a little conversation,
and to intioduct! a (liend, seated himself astiide (»i one of ihcsr barn-Is, like a
Jiaichus of private life; and nulling a great clasp-knife out of his pocket, began
lo " whittle il as he talked, by parmg thin slices oil the edges. An«l he whittled
with such industry and hearty good will, that but lor his being called away very
soon, il nnisl have disa|)peared bodily, and left nothing in its place but gri.^t and
shavings.

AlUr ( ailing at one or two flat places, with low dams stretching out into the
lake, wheieon weie stumpy lighthouses, like windmills without sails, the wIkjIc
looking like a Dutch vignette, we catne at midnight to Cleveland, where wc lay
all night, and until nine o'clock next morning.

I enleitained (|uile a ( uriosity in reference to this place, from having seen at
Sandusky a specimen of its literature in the shape of a newspaper, which was
very strong indeed upon the subject of Lord Ashburton's recent arrival at Wash-
ington, to adjust the |)oints in disj)ule between the United States (lovernment and
(ireat Jiiitain: informing its readers that as America had •* whipped " England

in her infancy, and whipped her again in her youth, so it was clearly necessary

and pledging its credit to all
iiy in the approaching negotiatio
and sent the I'.nglish Lord home again in double (juick time, they should, within

that she n)ust whin her once again in her maturity ; and pledging its credit to
True Americans, that if Mr. Webster did his tluty in the approaching negotiations,

two years, sing " Yankee Doodle in Jlydc Park, and Hail Columbia \\\ the scarlet
courts of Westminster ! " I found it a pretty town, and had the satisfaction of
beholding the outside of the oftice of the journal from which I have just quoted.
I did not enjoy the delight of seeing the wit who indited the paragraph in riues-
tion, but I have no doubt he is a prodigious man in his way, and held in nigh
repute by a select circle.

There was a gentleman on board, to whom, as T unintentionally learned through
.^ the thin partition which divided our state-room from the cabin in which he and
his wife conversed together, I was unwittingly the occasion of very great uneasi-
ness. I don't know why or wherefore, but 1 appeared to run in his mind per-
petually, and to dissatisfy him veiy much. First of all I heard him say : and the
most ludicrous part of the business was, that he said it in my very ear, and could
not have communicated more directly with me, if he had leaned upon my shoulder,
and whispered me: " Boz is on board still, my dear." After a considerable
pause, he added, complainingly, "Boz keeps himself very close;" which was
true enough, for I was not very well, and was lying down, with a book. I thought
he had done with me after this, but I was deceived ; for a long interval having
elapsed, during which I imagine him to have been turning restlessly from side to
side, and trying to go to sleep ; he broke out again, with "I suppose thatVto/.
will be writing a book by-and-by, and putting all our names in it ! " at which
imaginan- consequence of being on board a boat with Boz, he groaned, and
became silent.

We called at the town of Erie, at eight o'clock that night, and lay there an hour.
Between five and six next morning, we arrived at Buffalo, where we breakfasted ;
and being too near the Great Falls to wait patiently anywhere else, we set off by
the train, the same morning^ at nine o'clock, to Niagara.

•4hM*i

' .*

«'

■I

I

i^wr

4 i!

w^

Jmff'ir^H Seff'U

X\ \v\y* n n>i*i«t!\t»1f« A.w ; vh\]\y wwA v;mv ; w it. imp Mn^l rtltlni;; mut llir liit<«

In

th;\J niMthnn H'r\tM» ipiUi' h.nr nt^il \\ mMi\ . Whrtuvii lln 1i:iiii IimMi il. I li i* i)i.,|

f'vnv nin»nrni

r\p<oin^ to l>i htOil \hv s|>rn . \\ itinn •.\ U\\ \\\\\\\\\r<* ol oni ^(oppitij;, t\nl lirli>t..,
I v;^^ two jMr.U w hnr rlo\iils liom; nnvlowh ,\\\<\ \\\:\\v.\\\.\\\\ liom lln' ilrptln n|

ihr «\nth. \\\.\\ wa* nil. Af Ifnmh Wf .tli^htttj : awA ijn n loi ihv lif^l tinir
\ hc:\\\\ \\\v tui^'htv \\\^]\ ol M;tliM, .tnd (til \\u' ^}^\^\\^\^\ tirmMc nnilt'MiriHli iiiv

I'hr \\\\\\s. is MM\ s(r,<p. ;\n<l xv;\h slipptMV with «;»in. nnd h:\ll im* lli'l inv |

h.\t\n\ Know l\ow 1 \-^''\ ilown, l>nl I w.tn '^oon M \\\r boltinn.

.\h\ t liinliin>;. willi

IMO I i^j^ljsh o(li« ris w l\o Wi'ir nossin^', Mnil l\;it| joitnil inr. o\rt •^onir liinldn
n>rKs, «lo,\lon«<l h\ iho noist>, 1i;\lll>linil««l hv ihrvpnu. ;\ntl \\'v\ lo (In- sldn. \\i
>vtMr' ,\( lln' rt>o( ol iho .\nu'in";\n l';»ll. I ronM srr lut iinn\i'nm> lotunl ol \v;\iri
lo.^iitt^ honllonr. .town liont sixnn- i;n-,U In-i^^hl. Inil l\;nl no \<\r:\ ol ^^liiipc, <>» '^iin
nlion. ov j^nvlhm^ bnl >M;Mn> n»nn'ns\iv.

W hon wo Nvoiv "^oiUo'l in ihr liillr Irtn-bonl, nnil moh' nosnin^ iln* '^Mnllcn inti
inuu»"«li.\t«'h l^rloto l>olh *.<l;U.\<|s. I |>r|;;ni lo Irol \\}\:\\ il \v;m ; Inil I w;i«« in i
n>.nn\<M *lnnn«^l. .u\\\ t»t\nMo lo ronuMrlnn.l ll\(< xi^iiu'v^ ol lln- s, one. Il \\,i.
not \intil 1 c;\nitM>n TiMi- Uork, :nui loi>lvr.l (irrti llt';nrn, ott \vh;il n Inll nt
lMi|^hl-s^v<^u >x-,U»M ' tl\;it il r;inn> npon n\r in ils I'nII nni;lil ;inil n\:ijr«<lv.

l'h»Mi. whon 1 r«^ll how no.u to in\ (icnot I wn^ •.|,n\i|nn;. ihc lii^l rllrtl. ;ini|
the on«l\Min^ oi\o invi.ml .»n»l Itshn^ ol Ihr tinntn«loim '•ipi>il;\rlc. w;\s |'c:n r.
Po.-^tv ol" Nlnid, h.u^ipnllitv, r.ilni ivrollt'«lii>ns «»! thr I>rml, ^jtr.il lhon|;lils n|
l'"toin,il Host .uul H,\ppitU's>, ; t\o(hin'^ ol ^;lo(Mn oi tciioi. Ni;i^;:n:i w;is mI once
t,inip<vl \>j>on nn InwU, ;\n Inv^ro ol 1U\ttil\ ; lo irn»;\ni lltovc, i linnm-K'ss .iml

iiulolihlo. nnul its )>\i1so«i roi-^o lo n«\il. lot < voi

<M^. liow {he vlvilo A\\\\ tr»>uMt' ol «l;ulv lil*'" irrrilrd lioni mv viow, niul Icsm'ttcil
in iho div(.\nr<\ vhnit\i,' Ibo irn nirnnM;\M(' d.ivswi" p.i^M-d »m< lltiil Mnrltinilril
<vronn<l I \Vh,U \oi*v«i ^poKo iww] onl llir l1nn\>lriinj; wnlct ; wlcil l".!!'!"*, I.uIimI
(Vom iho oavlh, lookcvt ont iipoii nvMVoni its ^loainittp drplhs ; wlinl llcitvctilv
pn"»mi«o i^liston(\l in tlto';^ ;\nj^v^K' 1» ""=, ihc dt»>p>^ ol ninnv Inns, ilml slunvni-il
;uo\ni»l. .\n>l twined tluMUsrlvos ;il>or.j lln^ j;otj>oous atvlus w lurlt Iho ihnti^^iiii,'
fainlvnvs ni.ido ! •

I novov viitix\l in ;\11 lint tinio ln">ni tho ( ;\tia»1iiin ?i»lo, wItilluM I had pone ;it
fn>t. 1 novtM tM\>vsovl iho livof A^:\m ; lot I Know iIumo wrvo p«'(»p1(' on Iho oiIk i
shore, anti in such a plaoo it is nat\nal to ^]\\\\\ sttanj^o oon\pany. lo wandn to
and fm all day. and soo Iho oataraots IVotu all piniits ol" view ; to slatui npon llic
ctlp:* o\ (ho ii^-oat Hojvo Slioo l-\d1. inavKini: (ho hnniod waloi jjadioiinj.; stioniMli
as it appl^^aoh^^^ tho voi;:o. vol stXMninj;. too, to pauso holovo it shot into the jmiH
lx>low ; to }^a70 iVoni tlio vivov's lovol up at tho (oiiotit as it oanio slroaniinii down;
to climb tho ncichlvnuinj;: hoij^hts and watoh it thron^^h the ticcs, and soc (ho
MToathin>; watov in tho rapids h\nivin>; on lo» \.\]w i(s roatfnl phni^o ; lo linf,*ot in
tho shadow ol tho solonin rooKs (Inoo milos holow ; wa(ohin)^ tho livor as, stiiud
by no visible oanso. it heaved and eddicvi and awoke the eohoc;*, bcinp (ri>nMod
vet. far dowTi Ivnoath (ho surlaoo, by ils j^iant leap; (o have Nia^^ara bolbto mo.
1ij;::hted b\ the s\nt and bv (ho moon, rod in (ho day s doolino, atul ^roy as ovcnini:
slowly tell upon i{ ; to UxVk upv-^n it eveiy day, and wake up in the night and hear
its ceaseless voice : this was eno\ij;h.

I think in even ouiet season now. still tlo (ho^c waters roll atul leap, and rmv
and timible. all day lone: still are (ho rainbows spanning; (hem, a hundred Iim
below. Still, when the sun is on them, do they shine and j^low like molten pold.
Still, when the day is gloomy, do they tall like snow, or seem to crumble away

'^^^

Miijffli »!' Niiij^iirit.

119

WW thi' fmnt nf n ^»rrtif « Imlk < lill. nr rull dowti flw rn* k llkf »l«'fiM' wliiJf «fri<ilc»'.
Hill iiUnv* '•"•"' th'- niii;li«v ^•'•■'•••« "|'|"'" I" «li'' «"« it rofiifH flown, iiri'l nlwny<«
liiitn it«< iinlnlhtMniiMf ^nlivr iii1s»m IIiiiI U»iri»ii<lMiiM ylinnf or sprriy iiri'l rriinf whi/ h
i, iifvii ImI'I wliii Ii Iiiim litninfftl llih plinf wMli Mir tiiinif 'Im-.hI "lAruwiWyf <mvv
I liiilun"^'* l'i«"»'l«'l "" llif <lt» j'. mi'l lliiil lirsJ Hood holorc tin; hdiijji- Ijgiil —
laiiir ni'^lilnK on Onilion ill tin- won! of 1 »o(|.

i> \v, ;in<l Ic^vcuc.I
\ llial I'.tU'liiinlril

\\ll:l( liUOs, (ailed

; \vlii»( lIcnvciiK

IS. dial sliowi'ir.l

i(l\ Iho rhatij^iu;,'

c\ I had m>n(' ;i(
>plr on llu^ oilici
To wnndct (n
> slant! upon the
\llu'iin^; slioni'lh
hot iiUo (li(> ^\\\\
stXMtninij down;
('OS, and see tlio
ti^T ; (() lin|,*(M iM

rivor as, stitud
. bcinp (loiihlod
\^M\\ IxMotv n\(\

j,Mcy ;»s t^vcnini:
.' ni^lit and Ijcai

ciiAni.n XV.

INlANMtA; ImRONKI; KINOSMiN; MriNIKKAl,; ♦,»l/RMKr; Rf . /OMN's. IN fHtK
I'NIIIK SIAIKM AMAIN : II'MANON; I m^ SMAK I'K VH lAOK ; WKSI I'dfNT. ^

I wiMi lo altslain hoMi in'ilihiliini any < oni|iarisori. or drawing; nny pnralWI what-
rvci, Itrlwiin ||M«*iO(ial Icahiirs o( llif I'niird Slafrs jiti'l fliosr of [\\v WuW'^h^
I'lmx-ssiMii'. in ( an ida,

( mini ••!

Mill JM'loti* I Iravi

I'oi lliji; K a'on, I shall (oridiir my^rll lo a very l;ritf

iiriniinl <i| oiii j«)niiM yini^'s hi llic lallci Icriiloiy.

Niajjaia,
haidlv have PHC
l1ir I

Hut iMion- I iravr iNiaijaia, I tnnsl advirt to one diKj,Mi«;lifi(,' ufrnrnitanrft whi(h
ran haidly have ph( ii|iod ihf ohsrrvation of any drrrnl Iravdht who has visited

On lalilr Wnih, llirio h n rotlajj'' l>rIon(,'inj,' to a fiuid'-, wh' rr liltir Mdi(<» of
thr plate air* sold, and whcic visilom jr^^isN 1 thiir names in a hook kept for Ihf
pinpimr. ( )ii the will ol tin- loom in whi( li a L;r«at niany of I h(s<- volumes an:
picM'ivrd, the ImIImwuih in|u<sl is jios(«d : " Visitom will ph-asf; not ropy nor
» xliai t Ihr rnnatks and jiorlii al cnnsioMs horn the r«>(,'islrrs and alhnms kri»f h'rf."

Mill lor this inlimalinii, I should have let Ihrm lir^ upon llw laldcs (,u whir h fhry
Avctr slirwn Willi (aicliil mj^li^ciicc, liki; hooks in a diawinj^-iorim ; hrinj^ rjuitr-
s alisiifd with thr ■lupcndoiis sillinrss of corlain stan/as with an anti-rlimax at the
end (if rat h. whith wen- hainrd and himj,' up on the wall, CurifMis, hr>wr-vr.'r,
nlh-i iradinj.; this aiinouiM cnicnt, l(» sec what kind of mors( Is wrrr^ Kr» r.arr;fully
pirscrvcd, I turned a lew Ic.ves, and found them serawh d all over with tfiO vilest
and the filthiest ribaldry that ever human ho^^^dclij^hled in.

It is Innnilialinj4 eiioujdi to know thai there are anK»ri^' rrirn, hrntes? %(t riljscene
nnd woilhless, thai they lan delight in laying tlir-ir inisrraMr; j)rofariations uprm
the very steps of Nature's greatest altar. Mut that Ihrrse shouhl he hoarrlcd up
Ibi the delight of their fellow-swine, and kept in a public plar r- whr're any ryes
niav see them, is a disj^uace to the I'Jij^lish lanjMiat'r; in whi( li they arc written
(lliDU^h I hope few of these entries have bct.n rnadr; by J'.rij,'li->hrficn}, anrJ A re-
j)i()at;h to the h'.nj^lish side, on whit h they art preserved,

I'hc (juarters ol t)ur soldiers at Niajsira, are finely and airily situatnrl. .Sr>Tne (A
them are lat^e dctaehed houses on the |)lain above the halls, which were r>rijjinaliy
desipicd for hotels; and in the evening time, when the wf*mcn and chilrlren were
leaning,' over the baleonics w.itehinj,' the men as they phiyed at ball anrl other
games upon the )^M*ass before the door, they f)ften presented a little [)icture of cheer-
fulness and animation which made it riuite a pleasure to i)ass t})at way.
t At any {garrisoned point where the line of tiemareatirm between one country and
another is so very narrow as at Niagara, desertion from the ranks can scarcely fail
to be of frequent occurrence : and it may be reasonably supposed that when the
soUiiers entertain the wiltlest and maddest hopes of the fortune and inrlependcnce
that await them on the other side, the impulse to play traitor, which such a place
suggests to dishonest minds, is not weakened. 13ut it very rarely happens that

Tl.iftuPI

I20

American Notes.

"1

\:': \'^

the men who do desert, are happy or contented afterwards ; and many instances
have been known in which they have confessed their grievous disappointment, and
their earnest desire to return to their old service if they could but be assured of
pardon, or lenient treatment. Many of their comrades, notwithstanding, do the
like, from time to time ; and instances of loss of life in the effort to cross the river
with this object, are '"nr from being uncommon. Several men were drowned in
the attempt to swim across, not long ago ; and one, who had the madness to trust
himself upon a table as a raft, was swept down to the whirlpool, where his
mangled body eddied round and round some days.

I am inclined to think that the noise of the. Falls is very much exaggerated ; and
this will appear the more probable when the depth of the great basin in which the
water is received, is taken into account. At no time during our stay there, was
the wind at all high or boisterous, but we never heard them, three miles off, even
at the very quiet time of sunset, though we often tried.

Queenston, at which place the steam-boats start for Toronto (or I should rather
say at which place they call, for their wharf is at Lewiston, on the opposite shore),
is situated in a delicious valley, through which the Niagara river, in colour a veiy
deep green, pursues its course It is approached by a road that takes' its winding
way among the heights by which the town is sheltered ; and seen from this point
is extremely beautiful and picturesque. On the most conspicuous of these heights
stood a monument erected by the Provincial Legislature in memory of General
Brock, who was slain in a battle with tiie American forces, after having won the
victory. Some vagabond, supposed to be a fellow of the name of Lett, who is
now, or who lately was, in prison as a felon, blew up this monument two years
ago, and it is now a melancholy ruin, with a long fragment of iron railing hanging
dejectedly from its top, and waving to and fro like a wild ivy branch or broken
vine stem. It is of much higher importance than it may seem, that this statue
should be repaired at the public gost, as it ought to have been long ago. Firstly,
because it is beneath the dignity of England to allow a memorial raised in honoui
of one of her defenders, to remain in this condition, on the very spot where he
died. Secondly, because the sight of it in its present state, and the recollection
of the unpunished outrage which brought it to this pass, is not very likely to soothe
down border feelings among English subjects here, or compose their border
quarrels and dislikes.

I was standing on the wharf at this place, watching the passengers embarking
in a steam-boat which preceded that whose coming we awaited, and participating
in the anxiety with which a sergeant's wife was collecting her few goods together
— keeping one distracted eye hard upon the porters, who were huriying them on
board, and the other on a hoopless washing-tub for which, as being the mo:.t
utterly worthless of all her moveables, she seemed to entertain particular affection
— when three or four soldiers with a recruit came up and went on board.

The recruit was a likely young fellow enough, strongly built and well made, but
by no means sober : indeed he had all the air of a man who had been more or less
drunk for some days. He carried a small bundle over his shoulder, slung at the
end of a walking-stick, and had a short pipe in his mouth. He was as dusty and
dirty as recruits usually are, and his shoes betokened that he had travelled on foot
some distance, but he was in a very jocose state, and shook hands with this soldier,
and clapped that one on the back, and talked and laughed continually, like a roar-
ing idle dog as he was.

The soldiers rather laughed at this blade than with him : seeming to say, as they
stood straightening their canes in their hands, and looking coolly at him over their
glazed stocks, •• Go on, my boy, while you may ! you'll know better bv-and-by : "
when suddenly the novice, who had been backing towards the gangway in his

V:

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w-
Q

m

The English Recruit.

121

noisy merriment, fell overboard before their eyes, and splashed heavily down into
the river between the vessel and the dock.

I never saw su h a good thing as the change that came over these soldiers in an
instant. Almost before the man was down, their professional manner, their stiff-
ness and cctnstraint, were gone, and they were filled with the most violent energy.
In less time than is required to tell it, they had him out again, feet first, with the
tails of his coat Happing over his eyes, everything about him hanging the wrong
way, and the water streaming off at every thread in his threadbare dress. But the
moment they set him upright and found that he was none the worse, they were
soldiers again, looking over the'r glazed stocks more composedly than ever.

The half-sobered recruit glanced round for a moment, as if his first impulse were

to express some gratitude for his presen-ation, but seeing them with this air of

totr.l unconcern, and having his wet pipe presented to him with an oath by the

oldier who had been by far the most anxious of the party, he stuck it in his mouth,

rust his hands into his moist pockets, and without even shaking the water off his

clothes, waiked on board whistling ; not to" say as if nothing had happened, but

s if he had meant to do it, and it had been a perfect success.

Our steam-boat came up directly this had left the wharf, and soon bore us to the

outh of the Niagara ; where the stars and stripes of America flutter on one side

[and the Union Jack of England on the other : and so narrow is the space between

" em that the sentinels in either fort can often hear the watchword of the other

ountr}' given. Thence we emerged on Lake Ontario, an inland sea ; and by half-

ast six o'clock were at Toronto.

Tiie country round this town being vcr)' flat, is bare of scenic interest ; but fhe
own itself is full of life and motion, bustle, business, and improvement. The
treets are well paved, and lighted M'ith gas ; the houses are large and good ; the
hops excellent. Many of them have a display of goods in their windows, such
may be seen in thriving county towns in England ; and there are some which
ould do no discredit to the metropolis itself. There is a good stone prison here ;
nd there are, besides, a handsome church, a court-house, public offices, many
ommodious private residences, and a government observatory for noting and
; recording the magnetic variations. In the College of Upper Canada, which is one
of the pubhc estabhshments of the city, a sound education in every department of
polite learning can be had, at a very moderate expense : the annual charge for the
instruction of each pupil, not exceeding nine pounds sterling. It has pretty good
.'endowments in the way of land, and is a valuable and useful institution.
- The first stone of a new college had been laid but a few days before, by the
ovemor General. It will be a handsome, spacious edifice, approached by a long
venue, which is already planted and made available as a pubhc walk. The town
s well-adapted for wholesome exercise at all seasons, for the footwaysin the thorough-
ares which lie beyond the principal street, are planked like floors, and kept in very
)od and clean repair.

It is a matter of deep regret that political differences should have run high in
his place, and led to most discreditable and disgraceful results. It is not long
pince guns were discharged from a window in this town at the successful candi-
|Mates in an election, and the coachman of one of them was actually shot in the
idy, though not dangerously wounded. But one man was killed on the same
casion ; and from the very window whence he received his death, the very flag
hich shielded his murderer (not only in the commission of his crime, but from its
onsequences), was displayed again on the occasion of the public ceremony per-
formed by the Governor General, to which I have just adverted. Of all the colours
the rainbow, there is but one which could be so employed : I need not say that
ag was orange.

,^

.-SSM

i:-\^

H: '

'.'■fi

j

i

i

!

1

1 i

^^^m

122

American Notes.

next

The time of leaving Toronto for Kingston is noon. By eight o'clock
morning, the traveller is at the end of his joiuney, which is performed by stcaniJI
boat upon Lake Ontario, calling at Port Hope and Col)urg, the latter a chociful •|
thriving little town. Vast quantities of Hour form the chief item in the frcij,'ht of I
these vessels. We had no fewer than one thousand and eighty barrels on board, \
between Coburg and Kingston

The latter place, which is now the scat of government in Canada, is a very pdor
town, rendered still poorer in the appearance of its market-place by the ravages of
a recent (ire. Indeeil, it may be said of Kingston, that one half of it appears to
be burnt down, and the other half not to be built up. The Government House i<
neither elegant nor commodious, yet it is almost the only house of any importance
in the neighboinhood.

There is an admirable jail here, well and wisely governed, and excellently rcpi.
lated, in every respect. The men were employeil as shoemakers, roi)emakcrs,
blacksmiths, tailors, carpenters, and stonecutters ; and in building a new i)ris(Mi,
which was pretty far advanced towards completion. The female piisoners were
occupied in needlework. Among them was a beautiful girl of twenty, who liad
been there nearly three years. She acted as bearer of secret desjiatches for the
self-styled l*atriots on Navy Isl,:'.nd, during the Canadian Insurrection : sometimes
dressing as a girl, and carrying them in her stays ; sometimes attiring herself as .i
boy, ana secreting them in the lining of her hat. In the latter chaiMcter she always
rode as a boy wor'M, which was nolhirrg to her, for she could govern any horse
that any man could ride, and could drive four-in-hand with the best whip irr those
parts. Setting forth on one of her patriotic missions, she approjiriated to licrsell
the hist horse she corrld lay her hands on ; and this otlence had brought heiMlicrc
I saw her. She had quite a lovely Hice, though, as the reader may suppose from
this sketch of her history, there was a lurking devil in her bright eye, M'hich looked
out pretty sharply from between her prison bar-s.

There is a bomb-proof fort here of great str'cngth, which occupies a hold
position, and is cap.ablc, doirbtless, of doing good service ; though the town i-
much too close upon the frontier to be long helcl, I should imagine, for its pK^seiil
purpose in troubleil times. There is also a sural navy-yard, where a couple ci
Governn. ~nt steam-boats were building, and getting on vigor ously.

We left Kingston for JMontreal on the tenth of May, at half-past nine in the
morning, and proceeded in a steam-boat down the St. Lawrence river. The beauty
of tliis noble stream at almost any point, but especially in the commencement of
this journey when it winds its way among the thousand Islands, can hardly ho
imagined. The mrmbcr and constant successions of these islanels, all green and
richly wooded : their fluctuating sizes, some so large that for half an hour together
one among them will appear as the opposite bank of the river, and some so small
that they are mere dimjiles on its broad bosom ; their infinite variety of shapes;
and the mimber^ess eonrbinations of beautiful forms which the ti-ees gr-owiug on
them present ; all form a picture frairght with uncommuu rnterest and pleasure.

In the afternoon we shot down some rapids where the river boiled and bubbled
strangely, and wher-e the force and headlong violence of the cuiTcnt were tre-
mendous. At seven o'clock we reached Dickenson's Landing, whence travellers
proceed for two or three hours by stage-coach : the navigation of the river being
rendered so danger-ous and difficult in the interval, by rapids, that steam-boats do
not make the passage. The number and length of i\\o?,Q portages, over which the
roads ar-e bad, and the travelling slow, render the way between the towns of
Montreal and Kingston, somewhat tedious.

Our course lay over a wide, uninclosed tract of country at a little distance from
the river side, whence the bright warning lights on the dangerous parts of the

Beautiful Quehcc.

123

By eight o'clock next!
s pcifonncd by sloam.
, the latter n clu'cifnl
!' item in the fici/^Iitof
glUy barrels on board,

Canada, is a very poof
»lace by the ravages of
- half of it appears lo
Government House i^
use of any importaiuf

and excellently rcpu-
^makers, ropcmakcrs,
iiiUling a new prison,
female prisoners were
1 of twenty, who had
ct despatches for (he
urrection : sometimes
s attiring herself as .1
r character she always
uld govern any horse
le best whip in iIkh-
pproi)riated to hcrscli
ad brought herMhcrc
ler may suppose from
jht eye, which looked

ch occupies a hold

though the town h

agine, for its picsciil

where a couple ol

3usly.

alf-past nine in (ho
ce river. The boaulv

commencement of

ands, can hardly tw

lands, all green and

df an hour together

, and some so small

variety of shajics ;
10 trees growing on
est and pleasure,
boiled and bubbled
0 cun-ent were tre-
g, whence travellers

of the river being
hat steam-boats tio
'ges, over which the
ween the towns of

little distance from
jerous parts of the

t. Lawrence shone vividly. The night was dark and raw, and the way dreary
nough. It was nearly ten o'clock when we reached the wharf where the next
team-boat lay ; and went on board, and to bed.

She lay there all night, antl started as soon as it was day. The morning was
shcrcd in by a violent thunderstorm, and was very wet, but gradually improved
,nd briglitcned uj). doing on deck after breakfast, I was ama/ed to see floating
own with the stream, a most gigantic raft, with some thirty or forty wooden
ousts ujion it, and at least as many flag-masts, so that it looked like a nautical
trect, 1 saw many of these rafts afterwards, but never one so large. All the
imbcr, or "luml)er," as it is called in America, which is brought down the St.

awrcnce, is floated down in this manner. "When the raft reaches its place of
estination, it is broken up ; the materials are sold ; and the boatmen return for

ore.

At eight we landed again, and travelled by a stage-coach for four hours through

pleasant and well-cultivated country, j)erl'(.ctly r'rench in every respect : in the

pcarance of the cottages ; the air, language, and dress of the peasantry ; the
gn-boards on the shops and taverns : and tlie Virgin's shrines, and crosses, by

e wayside. Nearly every commf)n laboiucr and boy, though he had no shoes to
is feet, wore round his waist a sash of some bright colour : generally red : and

e women, who were working in the fields and gardens, and doing all kind;, of
usbandry, wore, one and all, great flat straw hats with most capacious brims,
'here were Catholic I'riests and Sisters of Charity in the village streets ; and

ages of the Saviour at the coiners of cross-roads, and in other public places.

At nof)n we went on board another steam-boat, and reached the village of
achine, nine miles from ^Montreal, by three o'clock. There, wc left the river,

d went on by land.

Montreal is pleasantly situated on the margin of the St. Lawrence, and is
ackcd by some bold heights, about which there are charming rides and drives,
'he streets are generally narrow and iiregular, as in mos»' French towns of any

e ; but in the more modem parts of the city, they are >"ide and airy. They
isplay a great variety of very good shops ; and both in the town and suburbs there
Jfcre many excellent private dwellings. The granite quays are remarkable for their
|)eauty, solidity, and extent.

There is a very large Catholic cathedral here, recently erected ; with two tall
fpires, of which one is yet imfmished. In the open space in front of this edifice,
itands a solitary, grim-looking, square brick tower, which has a quaint and
fcmarkable appearance, and which the wiseacres of the place have consequently
fietermined to pull down immediately. The Government House is very superior
that at Kingston, and the town is fidl of Hfe and bustle. In one of the

burbs is a plank road — not footpatu — five or six miles long, and a famous road

is too. All the rides in the vicinity wcie made doubly interesting by the burst-
g out of spring, which is here so rapid, that it is but a day's leap from barren
'inter, to the blooming youth of summer.

The steam-boats to Quebec, perform the journey in the night ; that is to say,
ey leave Montreal at six in the evening, and arrive at Quebec at s'x next morn-
,g. We made this excursion during our stay in Montreal (which exceeded a
l&rtnight), and were charmed by its interest and beauty.

The impression made upon the visitor by this (jibraltar of America : its giddy

ights ; its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air ; its picturesque steep streets

d frowning gateways ; and the sj)lendid views which burst upon the eye at

ery turn : is at once unique and lasting.

It is a place not to be forgotten or mixed up in the mind with other places, or
tercd for a moment in the crowd of scenes a traveller can recall. Apart from

124

American Notes.

;t M

L »

iif

the realities of this most picturesque city, there are associations clustering about it
which would make a desert rich in interest. The dangerous precipice along ^vho^e
rocky front, Wolfe and his brave companions climbed to glory ; the Plains of j
Abraham, where he received his mortal woimd ; the fortress so chivalrously
defended by Montcalm ; and his soldier's grave, dug for him while yet alive, by
the bursting of a shell ; are not the least among them, or among the gallant inci-
dents of history. That is a noble Monument too, and worthy of two great nations,
which perpetuates the memory of both brave generals, and on which their names
are jointly written.

The city is rich in public institutions and in Catholic churches and charities,
but it is mainly in the prospect from the site of the Old Government Houbc, and
from the Citadel, that its surpassing beauty lies. The exquisite expanse of
country, rich in field and forest, mountain-height and water, which lies stretched
out before the view, with miles of Canadian villages, glancing in long ^vhite
streaks, like veins along the landscape ; the motley crowd of gables, roofs, and
chimney tops in the old hilly town immediately at hand ; the beautiful St.
Lawrence sparkli^.^; and flashing in the sunlight ; and the tiny ships below the
rock from which you gaze, whose distant rigging looks like spiders' webs against
the Jight, while casks and barrels on their decks dwindle into toys, and busy
mariners become so many puppets ; all this, framed by a sunken window in the
fortress and looked at from the shadowed room within, forms one of the brightest
and most enchanting pictures that the eye can rest upon.

In the spring of the year, vast numbers of emigrants who have newly arrived
from England or from Ireland, pass between Quebec and Montreal on their way
to the backwoods and new settlements of Canada. If it be an entertaining
lounge (as I very often found it) to take a morning stroll upon the quay at
^lontreal, and see them grouped in hundreds on the public wharfs about their
chests and boxes, it is matter of deep interest to be their fellow-pissenger on
one of these steam-boats, and mingling with the concourse, see and hear them
unobserved.

The vessel in which we returned from Quebec to IMontreal was cro\i ded with
them, and at night they spread their beds between decks (those who had beds, at
least), and slept so close and thick about our cabin door, that the passage to and
fro was quite blocked up. They were nearly all English ; from Gloucestershire
the greater part ; and had had a long wmter-passage out ; but it was Avonderful
to see how clean the children had been kept, and how untiring in their Icve and
self-denial all the poor parents were.

Cant as we may, and as we shall to the end of all things, it is very much harder
for the poor to be virtuous than it is for the rich ; and the good that is in them,
shines the brighter for it. In many a noble mansion lives a man, the best of
husbands and of fathers, whose private worth in both capacities is justly lauded
to the skies. But bring him here, upon this crowded deck. Strip from his foir
young wife her silken dress and jewels, unbind her braided hair, stamp early
wrinkles on her brow, pinch her pale cheek with care and much privation, array
her faded form in coarsely patched attire, let there be nothing but his love to set
her forth or deck her out, and you shall put it to the proof indeed. So change his
station in the world, that he shall see in those young things who climb about his
knee : not records of his wealth and name : but littF '•estlers with him for his
daily bread ; so many poachers on his scanty meal ; so many units to divide his
every sum of comfort, and farther to reduce its small amount. In lieu of the
endeaiments of childhood in its sweetest aspect, heap upon him all its pains and
wants, its sicknesses and ills, its fretfulness, caprice, and querulous endurance :
let its prattle be, not of engaging infant fancies, but of cold, and thirst, and

Farewell to Canada.

125

r

lunger : and if his fatherly affection outlive all this, and he be patient, watchful,
tender ; careful of his children's lives, and mindful always of their joys and sorrows;
len send him back to Parliament, and Pulpit, and to Quarter Sessions, and when
I hears fine talk of the depravity of those who live from hand to mouth, and
ibour hard to do it, let him speak up, as one who knows, and tell those holders
•rtli that they, by parallel with such a class, should be High Angels in their daily
ives, and lay but humble siege to Heaven at last.

Which of us shall say what he would be, if such realities, Avith small relief or
;hange all through his days, were his ! Looking round upon these people : f''r
•om home, houseless, indigent, wandering, weary with travel and hard living :
.nd seeing how patiently they nursed and tended iheir young children : how they
;onsulted ever their wants first, then half supplied their own ; what gentle ministers
if hope and faith the women were ; how the men profited hy their example ; and
low very, very seldom even a moment's petulance or harsh complaint broke out
lamong them : I felt a stronger love and honour of my kind come glowing on my
pieart, and wished to God there had been many Atheists in the better part of
•Jliuman nature there, to read this simple lesson in the book of Life.

We left Montreal for New York again, on the thirtieth of May ; crossing to

a Prairie, on the opposite shore of the St. Lawrence, in a steam-boat ; we then

00k the railroad to St. John's, which is on the brink of Lake Champlain. Our

last greeting in Canada was from the English officers in the pleasant barracks at

" at place (a class of gentlemen who had made every hour of our visit memorable

y their hospitality and friendship) ; and with ** Rule Britannia " sounding in our

ars, soon left it far behind.

But Canada has held, and always will retain, a foremost place in my remembrance.

ew Englishmen are prepared to find it what it is. Advancing quietly ; old diffe-

ences settling down, and being fast forgotten ; public feehng and private enter- '

^ rise alike in a sound and wholesome state ; nothing of flush or fever in its

iystem, but health and vigour throbbing in its steady pulse : it is full of hope and

fromise. To me — who had been accustomed to think of it as something left
ehind in the strides of advancing society, as something neglected and forgotten,
•lumbering and wasting in its sleep — the demand for labour and the rates of wages ;
file busy quays of Montreal ; the vessels taking in their cargoes, and discharging
Jhem ; the amount of shipping in the difi"erent ports ; the commerce, roads, and
iff^feubUc works, all made to last ; the respectability and character of the public
Journals ; and the amount of rational comfort and happiness which honest industiy
^ay earn : were very great surprises. The steam-boats on the lakes, in their con-
eniences, cleanliness, and safety ; in the gentlemanly character and bearing of
■-eir captains ; and in the politeness and perfect comfort of their social regula-
)ns ; are unsurpassed even by the famous Scotch vessels, deservedly so much
teemed at home. The inns are usually bad ; because the custom of boarding at
otels is not so general here as in the States, and the British officers, who form
large portion of the society of every town, live chiefly at the regimental messes :
in eveiy other respect, the traveller in Canada will find as good provision for
s comfort as in any place I know.

There is one American boat— the vessel which earned us on Lake Champlain,
om St. John's to Whitehall — which I praise very highly, but no more than it
serves, when I say that it is superior even to that in which we went from
ueenston to Toronto, or to that in which we travelled from the latter place to
ingston, or I have no doubt I may add to any other in the world. This steam-
at, which is called the Burliwgton, is a perfectly exquisite achievement of neat-

)Ut

MMMH

1 1, I

':il'i!i-

^

41

li^'

126

American Notes.

ness, elegance, and order. The decks are drawing-rooms ; tlie cabins are boudoirJB
choicely tarnished and adorned with prints, pictures, and musical instruments B|
every nook and corner in the vessel is a perfect curiosity of graceful comfort an^|
beautiful contrivance. Captain Sherman, her commander, to whose ingenuity a^.^H
excellent taste these results arc solely attributable, has bravely and worthily dii'^l
tinguished himself on more than one trying occasion: not least among thcm.it^l
having the moral courage to carry British troops, at a time (during the CanadutH
rebellion) when no other 'conveyance was open to them. He and his vessel ar^H
held in universal respect, both by his own countrymen and ours ; and no nirir.H
ever enjoyed the popular esteem, -,vho, in his sphere of action, won and wore i:B
better than this gentleman. H

By means of this floating palace we were soon in the United States again, andH
called that evening at Burhngton ; a pretty town, where we lay an hour or so.H
We reached Whitehall, where we were to disembark, at six next morninjj; andl
might have done so earlier, but that these steam-boats lie by for some hours in theB
night, in consequence of the lake becoming very narrow at that part of the journov.Bj
and difficult of navigation in the dark. Its width is so contracted at one j)oin't, H
indeed, that they are obliged to warp round by means of a rope. H

After breakfasting at Whitehall, we took the stage-coach for Albany: n lar'^eM
and busy town, where we arrived between five and six o'clock that afternoon; f
after a very hot day's journey, for we were now in the height of summer again, 1
At seven we started for New York on board a great North River steam-boat, ,
which was so crowded with passengers that the upper deck was like the box loh'.v
of a theatre between the pieces, and the lower one like Tottenham Court Roail i
on a Saturday night. But we slept soundly, notwithstanding, and soon after five *'|
o'clock next mornir;g reached New York. 1

Tarrying here, only that day and night, to recruit after our late fatigues, we I
started oft" once more upon our last journey in America. We had yet live davs I
to spare before embarking for England, and I had a great desire to see "the J
Shaker Village," which is peopled by a religious sect from whom it takes its name, M

To this end, we went up the North River again, as far as the town of Hudson, 11
and there hired an extra to carry us to Lebanon, thirty miles distant : and of cour'-e 1
another and a different Lebanon from that village where I slept on the night of
the Prairie tiip. |

The country througii which the road meandei cd, was rich and beautiful; the |
weather very fine ; and for many miles the Kaatskill mountains, where Rip Van \
Winkle and the ghastly Dutchmen played at ninepins one memorable gusty after-
noon, towered in the blue distance, like stately clouds. At one point, as we
ascended a steep hill, athwart whose base a lailroad, yet constructing, took its
course, we came upon an Irish colony. With means at hand of building decent
cabins, it was wonderful to see how clumsy, rough, and wretched, its hovels were.
The best were poor protection from the weather ; the worst let in the wind and
rain through wide breaches in the roofs of sodden grass, and in the walls of mud ;
some had neither door nor window ; some had nearly fallen down, and were im-
perfectly propped up by stakes and poles ; all were ruinous and filthy. Hideously
ugly old v.'oraen and very buxom young ones, pigs, dogs, men, children, babies,
pots, kettles, dunghills, vile refuse, rank straw, and standing water, all wallowing
together in a^i inseparable heap, composed the furniture of every dark and dirty hut.

Between nine and ten o'clock at night, we arrived at Lebanon : which is re-
nowned for its warm baths, and for a great hotel, well adapted, I have no doubt,
to the gregarious taste of those seekers after health or pleasure who repair here, <
but inexpressibly comfortless to me. We were shcwTi into an immense apartment, ;
lighted by two dim candles, called the drawing-room : from which there was a I

Shaker Worship not to be seen.

127

descent by a flight of steps, to another vast desert, called the dining-room : our

bed chambers were among certain long rows of little white- washed cells, which

I opened from either side of a dreary passage ; and were so lilce rooms in a prisoii

!tliat I half expected to be locked up when I went to bed, and listened involun-

Itarily for the turning cf the key on the outside. There neetl be baths somewhere

im the neighbourhood, for the other washing arrangements were on as limited a

scale as 1 ever saw, even in America : indeed, these bed-rooms were so very bare

of even such common luxuries as chairs, that I should say they were not provided

i with enough of anything, but that I bethink myself of our having been most

bountifully bitten all night.

The house is veiy pleasantly situated, however, and we had a good breakfast.
That done, we went to visit our place of destination, which was some two miles
oil, and the way to which was soon indicated by a finger-post, whereon was
painted, *• To the Shaker Village."

As we rode along, we passecl a party of Shakers, who were at work upon the
road ; who wore the broadest of all broad-brimmed hats ; and were in all visible
respects such very wooden men, that I felt about as much sympathy for them, and
as much interest in them, as if they had been so many figure-heads of ships.
Presently we came to the beginning of the village, and alighting at the door of a
house where the Shaker manufactures are sold, and which is the head-quarters of
the elders, requested permission to sec the Shaker worship.

Pending the conveyance of this request to some person in authority, we walked
into a grim room, where several grim hats were hanging on grim pegs, and the
time was grimly told by a giim clock, which uttered every tick with a kind of
struggle, as if it broke the grim silence reluctantly, and under protest. .Ranged
against the wall were six or eight stifi' high-backed chairs, and they partook so
strongly of the general grimncss, that one would much rather have sat on the floor
than incurred the smallest obligation to any of them.

Presently, there talked into this apartment, a grim old Shaker, with eyes as
hard, and dull, au^. cold, as the great round metal buttons on his coat and waist-
coat ; a sort of calm goblin. Being informed of our desire, he produced a news-
paper wherein the body of elders, whereof he was a member, had advertised but
a few days before, that in consequence of certain unseemly interniptions which
their worship had received from strangers, their chapel was closed to the public
for the space of one year.

As nothing was to be urged "in opposition to this reasonable aiTangement, we
requested leave to make some trifling purchases of Shaker goods ; which .was
grimly conceded. We accordingly repaired to a store in the same house and on
the opposite side of the passage, where the stock was presided over by something
aliveln a rus jt case, which the elder said was a woman ; and which I suppose was
a woman, though I should not have suspected it.

On the opposite side of the road was their place of worship : a cool, elean
, edifice of wood, with large windows and gi-een blinds : like a spacious summer-
1 bouse. As there *vas no getting into this place, and nothing was to be done but
Iwalk up and down, and look at it and the other buildings in the village (which
[were chiefly of wood, painted a dark red like English bams, and composed of
linany stories like English factories), I have nothing to communicate to the reader,
Ibeyond the scanty results I gleaned the while our purchases were making.

These people are called Shakers from tboir peculiar form of adoration, whToh

msists of a dance, performed by the men. and women of all ages, who arrange

iiemselves for that purpose in opposite parties : the men first divesting themselves

|f their hats and coats, which they gravely hang against the wall before they

Jgin ; and tying a ribbon round their shirt-sleeves, as though they were going to

n

* 1

I

:!; «|

f^

UR

AmrHi-^n Notes,

bo Motl. Thpv nrootnpunv llu'tusrivcs \\\\\\ n <lu>nin^;, hnnnniiijr noisp, mid iliunr
\niti1 llu'V iUi' qnilr rxhiuixttd, nltnn.Urlv n»lv!nujnj» nml n'liiinjj in « j)rr|HK(i n,,!
soH ot tro(. I hr rOrt ( is •inid (o Im> »tn>^pf:d<nMv nlmiinl : iilitl if I iiimv \\\,\y,
rii>n» ;i |>nn( ol (his it>v«nu>«iv \vhi« h I linvr in niv |H»«^^I'^si(M^ ; juitl wliit li I im,
inlonutd l>v thoso \vl'.o hiwr visiU'il \\\v i hiipcl, is pciloilly ait-uiatp ; i( njn-^l Im-
inlinitcly f;io(o<^ijuo.

rhoy ;no iMnciniMl \\\ ;\ wotnun, anil \\v\ nilr is ntMlct'^lonil to Itc (ilt'^nlni,
tbon^h shr jias (ho as'jis(;nii'«' of a omnioil t»l oMcis. Slio livon, it is said, in .Iim
srolusion, i!i oov(aiinooi>\s abovo lIuM'hapol, ai\d is iu>vor shown lo pmlano ryi
ll vhr at all tv^onddi* iho ladv who ptrsidrd ovci the stoic, it is a m«'at tliMiilytn
Koi^p hor as oloso as pt>ssil>lo, and I oannol loo strongly oxpioss my poilocl kmi
nnivnoo in (his IxMunolotit ptoio<Mli«if;.

All tho possossions and rcviMnios ol tho srttlotnont a»o thiown into a ((anmnn
stooU. \vhi« h is niana>;od hv th«> rldns. As thov havo n»adr convoits iiinnn|.
poopl<» who woto woll to k\o in (ho woild, and aio (Vnf^al and Ihiilly, l( is nndci
stooil (ha( (his (\nid prospns : (ho t\u>ro osjiociallv as thov havo inado lainc |iiii
ohas(>s ol land. Nov is (his a( Lebanon tho otdy ShaUot solllonionl : thoi(> ww, \
dunk, a( loast, (In oo tUhovs.

Thov aio )^>o«l fatniovs, nn<l all thoir piodnoo is onf^oily pnrohasod end \\\v\\\\
o^tooniod. " Shalvov soods." " ShaUov h<>ibs," and " ShaUoi dislillod wains, "mk
oiMunuMdv annonnood lot sah^ in (ho shops ol" towns ai\d i'ilios. Thov ai(« jmihI
bjxvdois «M oatllo, and avo Kind anil nioviltd lo tho hiuto oioalion. ( "onscriinntlv,
Shakoi hoasls soldoni tail (o lind a roadv tnavUol.

Vhoy oa( an^t dvinU (ojiothoi, aOor (ho Spartan niodrl. at n j»ioat piiMic (;iMi ,
rhotv is no nnion ol tho soxos. and ovovvSnaltiM, nialo and lotnalo, is dovulnl to.i
lilo ot" coUhaoy. Riunour has boon bnsy npon this thotuo, bnl hoio ai,'ain I nuM
ixMor to (Vio lady <>1 tho stoio, and say. (ha( il tuany »>f Iho sislor Shakers rosctuMr
hor, 1 (real all snoh slandot as bearing on i(s laoe (he slron^osl marks of wild im-

IM\>lubili(y. Uu( lha( (hoy take as proselytes, norsons so yi^un^j (hat they ( iuinul
know (hoir own minvls, and oanno( possess nuioli strength ol resolution in this or
any v>(her ivspoot. 1 oan assn( lVon\ (uv own obsoivalion of (ho extreme jiivonilily
of corlain you(hl\il Shakers who(\i 1 saw al woik amonij the paity on tlie road.

They are said lo be ^oo<\ drivei-s ol barj^ains, lni( lo be honest and jiisl in their
trAns.-\clions, and even in luM^c-ilealin}^ lo resist those ihievish tendcMuios wliiili
would seem, lor son\o muiisooverovl reason, lo be almost inseparable IVom iliat
braneh of tiatlie. In all mallei's they hold their own eomse tpiielly, live in (hoir
gUx^my silent commonweallh, anil show little ilesirc lo interfere with other
pconlo.

This is well cnouj;h, but nevertheless \ oannol, 1 eonfess, ineline towards (lie
Shakcj-s ; view them with muoh favour, or extend lowaixK Iheni any very loiiienl
oonstuiotion. T so abhor, and from r.iy soul detest that bad spirit, no mailer hy
what class or sci^t it may be entertained, whieh would strip life of lis healtliiiil
j^races. ix>b youth o( its innoeenl pleasures, pluek from matunty anil aj;e lluir
pleasant oniaments. anil make existcnct bu' a nanow path towanls the ^rave : (liat
Oiiious spirit which, if it could have hat full scope and sway ujion the earth, nuist
have blasted and made barren tho imagiuations of the greatest men, and left tliein,
in their ]>ower of lai. ing up endming images before their fellow-creatures yet un-
born, no better than (he beasts : that, in these very broad-brimmed hats and very
sombre coats — in stilT-necked solemn-visaged piety, in short, no matter what its
garb, whether il have cropped hair as in a Shaker village, or long nails as in ;i
Hindoo temple — I recognise the vorst among the enemies of Heaven and Earth,
who tm-n the water at the maniage feasts of this poor woiUl, not into wine hut
gall. And if there must be people vowed to crush the harmless fancies and the

M//t't/try Scho/.

117

>\vii into A ( nnmi'ii)
|p ('(Hivrits iiiiiiMir t
iMillv. il is tiinl.i
(' niMtlr liili;r |i|ii
I'liUMil : (licic ;nc, I

iicl\;mr(l nul \\\i'\\\\
islillnl \v.i(ii'.,";ii(
's. 'riicy iU(< jMMil
on. (.'onst'iniciidv,

\irci\{ puMic (;ili|(,

mlo, is (Irvotcd (oi

I hnv iiijiiin I tni;M

1" SliaUcis irscinMc

nirtiUs of wild iiii-

1^ (lint thry <;uiiii'(

I'sohilion ill (Iiis m

cxltcnio jnvcnililv

ily on (lio road.

si atitl jnsl iti llu>i!

I\ londrmirs wliiih

vuable IVoni ilml

viiolly, live in (lini

lorrcrc with other

olinc towards tlu>
n any very Icnionl
>iiil, no niattor by
"c of its healtliiul
i-ily nml nj,'e iluir
Is the ^lavo : that
on the earth, must
en, and left llioin,
'-creatines yet un-
ncd hats and very
o uialter what its
lon^ nails as in a
caven and Earth,
not into wine hut
3 fancies and the

ll».\e nf Jnnouiit dcli^'ht*! and (,»aictle«<, whii h are n part «if httmnn n.iltirf ; a«

Iniu* h a part i»( il .is any other love or inipr Ihit is our ( omnion portion ; Id fli* mi,

fill me, ».t.ili<l opnily icvi aled amonj,' the lili.dd ni:d lir e»itioiis ; llir very idiot'*

know that M9' aie not on the lininoital load, and will de-^pi^^e tliein, af»d avoi*/

itli' in teadilv.

leaving: the Shal<er village with a Iwaily dislihe of flie old Shid(er«?, nnd »
111' iilv pity loi IIh- yoiiri}^ ow^: tempered l»v the ^tioii;; piohalidily of their lu/i-
'mii}4 a\>av ii'^ they j^'iow oldci and wiser, wlii( h they not iirKommoMly df> : wp if.
'tinned to I.ehaiion, nnd so to Hudson, liy the way we liad efttne upon the previfMu
itlav. Tlieie, we look the sleam lioal down the N(»il!i K iver towards .N'e.v York*
jbul 'lojiped, some font hours' j(»iirney short o( i», at West I'oinl, uliere we /»>
[maiiied that nij,dil, and all next <niy, nrid next riit,dil loo.

Ill litis lieantifiil plaie : lh«' fair<st amon^; the fair and lov ly I lii.dd iiid-i of Hie
[iNoith Kivir : shut in hy deep j^iceii lieijdils and niinc' lorts, and jookirij^ «lowii
hlpoii the fli^laiit town of Newhintdi, alorr^' a ylillerin^' path of snn.'it water, witii

htic and there a ^Kill, who'-e while sail oMen hends oi' some n( w taf k as siiddea

flaws of wind come down npon her fiom the f^'idlii s in the hills; hemrned in,
jbi ides, all round with memories of VVashingl(»n, and events of the revolutionary
|M'ai : is the Military School of Anrerien.

It could rrot 'taiiil orr more appropriate ^roiin<1, and any jjround morff he^nitifid

?nn haidlv l>ei Tin- ( (nirse of «'dii( atiorr is severe, l»iit well d( .iseO, and manly.

[Thronj^h |mr( iily, and Anj,Misl, the yonrr^ nren er)eani|» n|i'»n the spaci(»irs plain

vhcrcorr the coiuj^e starrds; and all the year their military exei(ises are perfoime//

here, dailv. The term of study at this iirsliliitiorr, wl)i( h the State re(|fiir<'s from

11 (adcts, is four years; hut, whether it he fionr the iij,'id nature f>f the discipline,

)f the rratioiral impalif nee of restrdnt, Or both causes ef>rnl)incd, not more th.ui

Jnlf the nnmlter who hej^'in their slrulies here, ever rerrrain to fmish ihcm,

'1 he mnnher of cadets hein^ .ihout e(|ual to that of t'.c mernhers of ( ion^ress, oi*e

iRcnt here from every ('on^ressional district : its member inllucncing the selectiotL

'onimissions in the service are distributed f»n the same principle. The dwellinjijs

;rf the various Professors are beautifully situated ; and there is a mo-;! excellent

lotel for stian^'cis, thouj^di it h.is the two dr.iwbacks of bein^ a total abstinence

Jouse (wines and spirits being forbidderr to the students), and of scrvin;^' the public

n fori able
•nd supjier .at sunset.

llieaK at rather nrrcomforlabic hours : to wit, breakfast at seven, dinner at one,

The beauty and freshness of this calm retreat, in the ver-y dawn and j^jrcenrress

Cf summer- it was then the bej^innin;^' of June were exf|msite indeed. Lenvinj^

it upon the sixth, an<l returning' to New Y(;rk, to embark for l-.n^dand on the siu-

>ccedinf,^ day, I was j,dad to think that ainon^' the last memorable beauties which

lad j,didetlpast us, and softened in the l)ri^ht persj)ective, were those whose

)ictuics, traced by no common hand, are fresh in most men's minrls ; not easily («

row' old, or fade beneath tin; dust of Time : the Kaatskill Mountains, Sleepy

[ollow, and the Ta|)paan Zee,

CHAPTER XVI.

THE PASSAGK HOME.

NEVER had i-o much interest before, and very likely I shall never luivo so much
Uerest again, in the state of the wind, as on the long looked-for rnprning of
fuesday the Seventh of June. Some nautical authority had told me a day or two

K

If

m

ll

■■.:<«ai

iP

Bi :' !

Mm

^]^

Arncriidn hotes.

nrcvidii 1, " iinythin^' with wc'>t in it, will do ;" sn when T darted out of bnl m ,i,,y.|
lij^ht, ;md llmiwin^' ii|) ll>c \vin<li)\v. w.is saluted l»y a lively lucc/.c iVoui \.\\v \v)\\\\
west wliiih liad spiuu;,' up in the nij^dil, it came upon me so freshly, nisllinj' wi-i,
so nvmy happy assoeialions, that I eonooived upon the spot a speeial lej^iuil foi n
,\iis l)lo\\ in;,' Iroin that (Miarter of the eompass, which 1 shall eherish, I d.iie s,i\,|
milil my own wind has breathed its last fiail pulV, ami withdrawn itself lor c\\f|
from the mortal ealeiular.

The pilot had iU)t been slow to take advanta},'e of thi-, favourable weatlu'i, i
the shi[) whiih yesterday had been in sueh a crowded dock that she mi};lii \\x\A
retired from traile for f^ooil and all, for any ehaiue she seemeil to have ol j^()in;,'ii
sea, was now full sixteen miles away. A j^allant sij,'ht she was, when we, l,i.;|
i^unini; on her in a steamdioat. saw her in the distance ridinj,' at anchor: lui till
masts pointing: uj) in paceful lines a},'ainst the sky, and every rojie aiul sparl
expressed in dclicato and threaddike outline: f^allant, too, when, we lHiiij,M!|
aboard, the anchor came up to the sturdy chorus " Cheerily nu-n, oh cludih!'
ami she followed proudly in the towinj^ steam-boat's wake : but bravest aiul iii,)«t
s^allant of all, when the tow-rojie bein^' cast adrift, the canvas iluttered from henii,M«,|
and siMeadinjj her white wind's she soared away \\\)o\\ her free and solitaiy couih.

In the after cabin we were only lifleen ])assen^'ers in all, and the j^u eater iv,u|
were ftom Canada, where scune of us had known each other. Theni},'ht Wiisn)u;;li
and scpially. so wove the next two days, but they (lew by (piickly, ami wc vtrei
soon as cheerful and snuj^ a jiarly, with an honest, manlydiearled captain at ourlio
as ever came to the resolution of bein^ unitually aj^reeable, on land or watei.

We breakfasted at cij^jht, lunched at twelve, ilined at three, and took our tea ad
half-j)a>>t veven. We had abundance of amusements, and dinner was not tluloK
imon;^ them : tlrstly, for its own sake ; sccoiully, because of its cxtraonliDin
lenjjth : its dutati(ui, inclusive of all the lou}^ i)auses between the courses, blind
seldom less than two hmn-s and a half; which was a subject of nevcr-failind
entertainment. By way of bet^uilinj^ the tediousness of these banquets, a sclu;j
association was lorme<l at the lower end of the table, below the mast, to \vlii>-
distinguished presiilent modesty forbids me to nuike any further allusion, whiclij
being a very hilarit)ns and jovial institution, was (j)rejudice apart) in higli favoal
wiih the rest of the community, and particularly with a black steward, wlu)]i\c:j
lor three weeks in a broail grin at the marvellous humour of these incorjiowk,;]
worthies.

Then, we had chess for those who played it, whist, cribbage, books, backganimoii,'
and shovolboard. In all weathers, fair or foul, calm or windv, we were eveivinie-
on deck, walking uji and down in pairs, lying in the boats, leaning over the Mile,
o;- chatting in a la/.y grouji together. We had no lack of music, for one i)layr
the accordion, another the violin, and another (who usually began at six o'cIim;
A.M.) the key-bugle: the combined ellect of which instruments, when thoy .".
jilayed ditrerent tunes in dificrent parts of the ship, at the same time, and withir.' ,
healing of each other, as they sometimes did (everybody being intensely satislici
wiih his own performance), was sublimely hideous.

When all these means of entertainment failed, a sail would heave in si^'li;:
looming, perhaps, the very spirit of a ship, in the misty distance, or passing us-'
close that through cour glasses we could see the people on her decks, and ea.-i'iy
make out her name, and whither she was bound. For hours together wc couU
watch the dolphins and porpoises as they rolled and leai)ed and dived around ilio
vessel ; or ihose small creatures ever on the wing, the Mother Carey's chiokell^
whicli had borne us company iiom New York bay, and for a whole forlnii:!.
fluttered about the vessel's stern. For some days we had a dead' calm, or v v
ligh.t v.'inds, during which the crew amused themselves with fishing, ancl hookei

Fffhw -piisicri^eru

l^

led out of l)l'(| ;U ,l,,y.

iM'c/.c from llir n()nj.
IK'shly, nisllin^; wkiJ
I siH'i'ial rc^Miil ini
I rhciisli, I (|;ni> s\\\
(irawii ilsiH loi ,.\u

;ouial)lc wtMllior, n M
that she nii};lit Ijn |
.'il to have ol [;()iii;^'
ic was, when wc, t,i.!|
^ at aticlior : lui l,i
every loju; and s].,ir|
), when, we l)i'iii;,' ,iil
y men, oh cheriilv;'j
l)ul bravest ami iiii)>t
ittered from henu.M.,
c and solitary cum si,
and tlie j,nealci parti
'l'heni|,'ht w;)sn)u;;!i
(juickly, ami \\c \\\\
.'d eaptain at our lie i'
in lami or walor.
:, and took our (c;i;,',|
nner was not the lo.i-;
: of its cxtraorilinm
:n tlie eourse-^. luiii'j
iject of never-lailiiij
ese banquets, a sclcuj
iw the mast, to wlio.
thei' allusion, whiili,
part) in hij,'li favo;;!
k steward, who livci|
f these incoriiorak'J

books, baek gammon,!
V, we were evcivonc

eaning over the >ii!i, ,
iiusic, ibr one jilavi

began at six o'cloiL
inicnts, when they :.
imc time, and witliir'
ng intensely sati.M;.

ould heave in si<;l',;:
nice, or passing us -i
her decks, and easiiy
s together we coul!
nd dived around ilio
er Carey's chickeib,
for a whole forlni;:..
^ dead' calm, or v,:v
fishing, and huok.''

in unhicky dolphin, who expirctl, in all his rainbow colours, on the deck : an
( vent of siuh im|iortance in our barren ealen<lar, that afterwards we dated fnjm the
dolphin, and made the day on which he died, an era.

Ik-sides all this, when we w -e live or six days otil, there began to be much
tilk of icebergs, of which wandering islands an unusual number had been seen by
the vessels that li;al come into New Yoik a day or two before we left that port,
,tiid of whiv^c dangerous neighbourhood we were warned by l!»e sudden coldness
(11 the wi alher, and the sinking of the mercury in the baronn.!^;'. While these
tokens lasted, a double look-out was kept, an«l many tlismal tales were whispered
aflfi' daik, of shi|)s that had struck upon the ice ami gone down in the night ; but
the wind obliging us lo hold a southward course, we saw none of them, and the
weather soon grew bright and warm again.

The observation every day at noon, and the sid)sc(|uent working of the vessel's
couise, was, ,''■, may be supposed, a feature in our lives of paramount importance ;
ni'i were the.o wanting (as there never are) sagacious (loid)teis of the captain's
calculations, who, so soon ar, his back was turned, would, in the absence ol com-
passes, measme the chart with bits of string, and ends of pocket-handkerchiels,
and points of snullers, and clearly prove him to be wrong by an odd thousand
miles or s(\ It was very edifying to see these unbelievers shake their heads and
frown, and hear them hold forth strongly upon navigation : not that they knew
anvthing about it, but that they always mistrusted the captain in calm weather, or
when the wind was adverse. Indeed, the mercury itself is not : o variable as this
class of passengers, whom you will sec, when the ship is going nobly through the
watci-, (piite jiale with admiratif)n, swearing that the captain beats all captains ever
known, and even hinting at subscriptions for a piece of plate; and who, next
nioining, when the breeze has lulled, ami all the sails hang useless in the idle air,
shake their despondent heads again, and say, with scrcwed-up lips, they hope that
|Ca|Uain is a sailor — but they shrewdly doubt him.

il even became an occupation in the calm, lo wonder when the wind would

j spring up in the favourable quarter, where, it was clearly shown by all the rules

jond piecedents, il ought to have sinung u]") long ago. The first mate, who

whistlecl for it zealously, was much respected for his perseverance, and was regarded

rcven by the unbelievers as a first-rate sailor. Many gloomy looks would be cast

lli])ward through the cabin skylights at the 'lapping sails whi'.j dinner was in pro-

tgrc'-^ ; and some, growing bold in ruefulness, predicted that we should land about

[the miildle of July. There arc always on board ship, a Sanguine One, and a

IDespondent One. The latter character carried it liollow at this period of the

i^oyige, and triumpheil over tiie Sanguine One at cvciy meal, by inquiring where

iic sujiposcd the (treat Westci n (which left New York a week after us) M-as now :

ind where he supposed the ' Cunard ' steam-packet w'as now : and what he thought

)f sailing vessels, as compared with steam-ships noiv : and so beset his life with

)estilent attacks of that kind, that he too was ol/iigcd t'^ aflect despondency, for

/e\y peace and quietude.

These were atlditions to the list of entertaining incidents, but there was still
mother source of interest. We carried Jn the steerage nearly a hundred passen-
prs : a little world of poverty : and as we came to know individuals among them
f sight, from looking down upon the deck where they took the air In the daytime,
id cooked their food, and veiy often ate it too, we became curious to know the;r
itories, and with what expectations they had gone out to America, and on what
rands they were going home, and what their circumstances were. The informa-
)n we got on these heads from the carpenter, who had charge of these people,
as o.^en of the strangest kind. Some of ihem had been in America but three
»ys, some but three months, and some had gone out in the last voyage of that

iff

I ' M.

in iw'

'f !ii

'■!: :jfi

B

132

American Notes,

very ship in which they were now returning home. Others had sold their (l(,(h(><
to raise the passajje-nioney, anil had Imrdly rags to cover them ; otiu-rs h.ul •/,
food, and lived upon the eharity of tiie rest : and one man, it was iliscovai)
nearly at the end of the voyage, not before — for he kept his secret close, and d
not court comjiassion — had had no sustenance whatever but the bones and scna
of fat he took from the plates used in the after-cabin dinner, when they wtte p.;
out to be washed.

The whole system of shipping and conveying these unfortunate persons, isn'j
that stands in need of thorough revision. If any class deserve to be protected ,,:
assisted by the (iovernment, it is that class who arc banished from their na
land in search of the bare means of subsistence. All that could be done for th, -
poor people by the great compassion and humanity of the captain ancl otlien. u
done, but they recjuire much more. The law is bound, at least upon the 1 ii-l;
side, to see that too many of them are not put on board one ship ; and that lii
accommodations are decent : not demoralising ami i)ronigate. It is bound. t(
in common humanity, to declare that no man shall be taken on board within;! ;
stock of provisions being previously inspected by some proper ofticcr, aiul 1
nounced moderately suflicient for his supj:)ort upon the voyage. It is bouin.
provide, or to require that there be provided, a medical attendant; wlierca^i?,
these ships there are none, though sickness of adults, and deaths of children, n-,
the passage, arc matters of the very commonest occuncnce. Above all it is ih
duty of any (iovernment, be it monarchy or republic, to interpose and put an r
to that system by which a firm of traders in emigrants purchase of the owners 1:
whole 'tween-decks of a ship, and send on board as many wretched people ;is th
can lay hold of, on any terms they can get, without the smallest reference to i
conveniences of the steerage, the number of berths, the slightest separation of t:
sexes, or anything but their own immediate profit. !Nor is even this the woi-t
the vicious system : for, certain crimping agents of these houses, who have a ;
centage on all the passengers they inveigle, are constantly travelling about th •
districts where poverty and discontent are rife, and tempting the credulou- !■
more misery, by hokhng out monstrous inducements to emigration which can ni..
be realised.

The history of every Himily we had on board was pretty much the same, Xk
hoarding up, and borrowing, and begging, and selling everything to jiny t'
passage, they had gone out to New York, expecting to find its streets paved wi;:
gold ; and had found them paved with veiy hard and very real stones. Entcipr
was dull ; labourers were not wanted ; jobs of work were to be got, but the payn-
was not. They were coming back, even poorer than they went. Oneoftlu
was carrying an open letter from a young English artisan, M'ho had been in Nv
York a fortnight, to a friend near Manchester, whom he strongly urged to folic-
him. One of the officers brought it to me as a curiosity. ** This is the countn
Jem," said the writer. " I like America. There is no despotism here ; that
the great t'jing. Employment of all sorts is going a-begging, and wages ar;
capital. You have only to choose a trade, Jem, and be it. I haven't made choi;:
of one yet, but I shall soon. At present I haven'' t quite made up my mind ivhdb
to he a carpenter — or a tailor y

There was yet another kind of passenger, and but one more, who, in the cak
and the light winds, was a constant theme of conversation and obsei-vation amor;
us. This was an English sailor, a smart, thorough-built, English man-of-war'^
man from his hat to his shoes, who was serving in the American navy, and havin;
got leave of absence was on his Avay home to see his friends. When he presentt;
himself to take and pay for his passage, it had been suggested to him that bein;
an able seaman he might as well work it and save the money, but this piece t

^
f

:li|l

The good wind at hut.

>33

Ivice

rtunatc persons, is n'{|
ve to be protected
shed from tlicii in;
oukl be (lone for thi
aj)tain and otliccrsw.-,-/^
least upon the Jmi^'Ii.
; ship : and that ih
te. It is Ijound. t(
1 on board without !,]
proper ofticer, ami pro-
oyagc. It is boumiiu
attendant ; wlicixa^ i:J
deaths of chihhtn,

Above all it is tlr
erpose and put an c
hasc of tlie owners i;
Tctched people as tb;
allest reference toii
htest separation of th
i even this the worM
louses, who have n j '
travelling about th •
ng the credulou- i^
jration which can ni.v;

nuch the same. Af;
everything to pay i'

its streets paved w;;:
sal stones. Enlerpri-
3e got, but the payiiic:
jy went. One of the
,vho had been in Xt
rongly urged to folic-
" This is the countn
lespotism here ; that
'Egging, and wages art

I haven't made cho:::
de up my mind ivhcih

nore, who, in the cab
md obsei-vation amor:
English man-of-war-
xican navy, and havin;
1. "When he presentt:
:ed to him that bein.
Dney, but this piece (

he very indignantly rejected: saying, •• He'd be damnetl but for once he'd

aboard ship, as a gentleman." Accoidingly, they took his money, but he no

MILT came aboard, than he stowed his kit in the Airecastle, arranged to mess with

^e Clew, and the very first time the hands were turne<l uj), went aloft like a cat,

;foie anybody. And all through the passage there he was, first at the braces,

iterm()>t on the yards, perpetually lending a hand evei-ywhcrc, but always with a

^ber dignity in his manner, and a sober grin on his face, which plainly said, " I

it as a gentleman. I*or my own pleasure, mind you !"

At length and at last, the promised wind came up in right good earnest, and
Vay we went before it, with e\ery stitch of canvas set, slashing through the water
)bly. There was a grandeur in the motion of the splendid ship, as overshadowed
her mass of sails, she rode at a furious pace upon the waves, which filled one
|lh an indescribable sense of pride and exultation. As she plunged into a foam-
valley, how I loved to see the green waves, bordered tleep with white, come
ihing on astern, to buoy her ujiwanl at their pleasure, and curl about her as she
)ope(l again, but always own her for their naughty mistress still ! On, on we
kv, with changing lights upon the water, being now in the blessed region of
(ecy skies ; a l)right sun lighting us by day, and a bright moon by niglit ; the
le pointing directly homeward, alike the truthful index to the fiivouring wind
to our cheerful hearts ; until at sunrise, one fair Monday morning — the twenty-
'cnlh of June, I shall not easily forget the day — there lay before us, old Caj)e
lar, (jod bless it showing, in the mist of early morning, like a cloud : the
Ightest and most welcome cloud, to us, that ever hid the face of Heaven's fallen
;er — Home.

'im speck as it was in the wide prospect, it made the sunrise a more cheerful
|ht, ami gave to it that sort of human interest which it seems to want at sea.
ire, as elsewhere, the return of day is inseparable from some sense of renewed
►e and gladness ; but the light shining on tl:e dreary waste of water, and
•wing it in all its vast extent of loneliness, presents a solemn spectacle, which
even night, veiling it in darkness and uncertamty, does not surpass. The rising
of the moon is more in keeping with the solitaiy ocean ; and has an air of melan-
choly grandeur, which in its soft and gentle influence, seems to comfort while it
Mddens. I recollect when I was a very young child having a fancy that the
•^t.nion of the moon in water was a path to Heaven, trodden by the spirits of
j^d people on their way to God ; and this old feeling of^ten came over me again,
•Kilen I watched it on a tranquil night at sea,

The wind was veiy light on this same Monday morning, but it was still in the
fkht quarter, and so, by slow degrees, we left Cape Clear behind, and sailed
l^ng within sight of the coast of Ireland. And how merry we all were, and
p|W loyal to the George Washington, and how full of mutual congratulations,
" I how venturesome in predicting the exact hour at which we should arri\c at
'erpool, may be easily imagined and readily understood. Also, how heartily
drank the captain's health that dav at dinnei ; and how restless we became
rtit packing up : and how two or three of the most sanguine spirits rejected
idea of going to bed at all that night as something it was not worth while to
so near the shore, but went nevertheless, and slept soundly ; and how to be
lear our journey's end, was like a pleasant dream, from which one feared to
ce.

The friendly breeze freshened again next day, and on we went once more
pre it gallantly : descr>'ing now and then an English ship going homeward
[er shortened sail, while we with every inch of canvas crowded on, dashed
" p:^t, and left her far behind. Towards evening, the weather turned hazy,
a drizzhng rain ; and soon became so thick, that we sailed, as it were, in a

f/ „.««r't^^S8BS

134

Ameriain Notes.

j; l!;il|«

i i iiii;!

eager

eve

cloud. Still we swept onward like a phantom ship, and many an
glanced up to where the Look-out on the mast kept watch for Holyhead.

At length his long-expc ci«,^ iry was heard, and at the same moment tluir
shone out from the haze a' id mi^t ahead, a gleaming light, which presently \v,;~
gone, and soon returned, and soon was gone again. Whenever it came back,
the eyes of all on boan^, brightened and sparkled like itself; and there we all
stood, watching this revolving light upon the rock at Holyhead, and praisinfj ii
for its brightness rnd its friendly warning, and lauding it, in short, above all other
signal lights that ever v re displayed, until it once more glimmered faintly in
the distance, far behind us.

Then, it was time to fire a gun, for a pilot ; and almost before its smoke had
cleared away, a little boat with a light at her mast-head came bearing down upon
us, through the darkness, swiftly. And presently, our sails being backed, she
ran alongside ; and the hoarse pilot, wrapped and muffled in pea-coats and
shawls to the very bridge of his weather-ploughed-up nose, stood bodily anion:;
us on the deck. And I think if that pilot had wanted to borrow fifty pounds for
an indefinite T:"nod on no security, we should have engaged to lend it 40 him.
among us, b'fore his boat had dropped astern, or (which is the same tiling;
before every ^.^lap of news in the paper he brought with him had become the
common property of all on board.

We turneci in pretty late that night, and turned out pretty early next morning.
By six o'clock we clustered on the deck, prepared to go ashore ; and looked upon
the spires, and roofs, and smoke, of Liverpool. By eight we all sat down in one
of its Hotels, to eat and drink together for the last time. And by nine we had
shaken hands all round, and broken up our social company for ever.

The country, by the railroad, seemed, as we rattled through it, like a luxuriant
garden. The beauty of the fields (so small they looked !), the hedge-rows, and
the trees; the pretty cottages, the beas of flowers, the old churchyards, the
antique houses, and eveiy well-known object ; the exquisite delights of that one
journey, crowding in the short compass of a summer's day, the joy of many
years, v/ith the winding up with Home and all that makes it dear ; no tongue can
tell, or pen of mine describe.

il

in

/

CHAPTER XVII.

SLAVERY.

The upholders of slavery in America — of the atrocities of which system, I shall
not write one word for which I have not had ample proof and warrant — may be
divided into three great classes.

The first, are those more moderate rnd rational owners of human cattle, who
have come into the possession of them as so many coins in their trading capital,
but who admit the frightful nature of the Institution in the abstract, and perceive
the dangers to society with which it is fraught : dangers which however distant
they may be, or howsoever tardy in their coming on, are as certain to fall upon
its guilty head, as is the Day of Judgment.

The second, consists of all those owners, breeders, users, buyers and sellers
of slaves, who will, until the bloody chapter has a bloody end, own, breed, use,
buy, and sell them at all hazards ; who doggedly deny the horrors of the system
in the teeth of such a mass of evidence as never was brought to bear on any
other subject, and to which the experience of every day contributes its immense

Three classes of Slave-holders.

^iS

many an eager eve
Holyhead,
same moment there
ivhich presently wa,
never it came 'back, ,
If : and there \vc ali %
lead, and praisiiif,' it
liort, above all other
glimmered faintly in

)efore its smoke had

bearing down upon

being backed, j^he

in pea-coats and

stood bodily amon^

TOW fifty pounds Cx

\ to lend it 4o hini,

is the same thin:,',

im had become ihu

early next morning.
J ; and looked iqion

all sat down in one
Lnd by nine we had

ever.

it, like a luxuriant
le hedge-rows, and
tl churchyards, the
delights of that one
the joy of many
ear ; no tongue can

ich system, I shall
d warrant — may be

human cattle, who
eir trading capital,
tract, and perceive
:h however distant
ertain to fall upon

buyers and sellers
, own, breed, use,
ors of the system
ht to bear on any
butes its immense

Imount ; who would at this or any other momerxt, gladly involve America in a

lar, civil or foreign, provided that it had for its sole end and object the assertion

If their right to perpetuate slavery, and to whip and work and torture slaves,

nciuestioned by any human authority, and unassailed by any human power ; who,

rhcn they speak of Freedom, mean the Freedom to oppress their kind, and to be

ivage, merciless, and cruel ; and of whom every man on his own grovmd, in

^publican America, is a more exacting, and a sterner, and a less responsible

je ;not than the Caliph Haroun Alraschid in his angry robe of scarlet.

[ Ihe third, and not the least numerous or influential, is composed of all that

lelicalc gentility which cnnnot bear a superior, and cannot brook an ec[ual ; of

lat class whose Republicanism means, "1 will not tolerate a man above me :

id of those below, none must approach too near ;" whose pride, in a land where

)luntary servitude is shunned as a disgrace, must be ministered to by slaves ;

id whose inalienable rights can only have their growth in negro wrongs.

It has been sometimes urged that, in the unavailing efforts which have been

lade to advance the cause of Hr.man Freedom in the republic of America (strange

luse for .history to treat of!), suflicient regard has not been had to the existence

t the first class of persons ; and it has been contended that they are hardly

sed, in being confounded with the second. This is, no doubt, the case ; noble

Istanccs of pecuniary and personal sacrifice have already had their grov.th

nong them ; and it is much to be regretted that the gulf between them and the

ivocates of emancipation should have been widened and deepened by any

jans : the rather, as there are, beyond dispute, among these slave-owners, many

id masters who are tender in the exercise of their unnatural power. Still, it is

be feared that this injustice is inseparable from the state of things with which

imanity and truth are called upon to deal. Slavery is not a Avhit the more

^durable because some hearts are Ko be found which can partially resist its

^rdening influences; nor can the indignant tide of honest wrath stand ?:till,

fcause in its onward course it overwhelms a few who are comparatively innocent,

among a host of guilty.

^ The ground most commonly taken by these better men among the advocates

• ^ slavery, is this : "It is a bad system ; and for myself I would willingly get

rid of it, if I could; most willingly. But it is not so bad, as you in England

take it to be. You are deceived by the representations of the emancipationists.

The greater part of my slaves are much attached to me. You Avill say that I do

npt allow them to be severely treated ; but I will put it to you whether you believe

\ ^at it can be a general practice to treat them inhumanly, when it would impair

' t|ieir value, and would be obviously against the interests of their masters."

Is it the interest of any man to steal, to game, to waste his health and
, pental faculties by drunkenness, to lie, forswear himself, indulge hatred, seek
^E^perate revenge, or do murder } No. All these are roads to ruin. And why,
^en, do men tread them } Because such inclinations are among the viciou"
^alities of mankind. Blot out, ye friends of slavery, from the catalogue of
j^man passions, brutal lust, cruelty, and the abuse of irresponsible power (of all
ieiirthly temptations the most difficult to be resisted), and when ye have done so,
;1Rnd not before, we will inquire whether it be the interest of a master to lash and
'maim the slaves, over whose lives and limbs he has an absolute control !
|-But again : this class, together with that last one I have named, the miserable
aiistocracy spawned of a false republic, lift up their voices and exclaim ** Public
inion is all sufficient to prevent such cruelty as you denounce." Public
inion ! Why, public opinion in the slave States /j- slavery, is it not? Public
pinion, in the slave States, has delivered the slaves over, to the gentle mercies
I their masters. PubHc opinion has made the laws, and denied the slaves

nil

hi

I- It

■ I

* '(^

;: i ^!

icf6

America7i Notes.

legislative protection. Public opinion has knotted the lash, heated the brandino.
iron, loaded the rifle, and shielded the murderer. Public opinion threatens the
abolitionist with death, if he venture to the South ; and drags him uith a rop-
about his middle, in broad unblushing noon, through the first city in the Eas^
Public opinion has, within a few years, burned a slave alive at a slow fire in tl;
city of St. Louis ; and public opinion has to this day maintained upon the bench
that estimable Judge who charged the Jury, impanelled there to try his mur.
derers, that their most horrid deed was an act of public opinion, and beinjj sn,
must not be punished by the laws the public sentiment had made. Public ojnnio;;
hailed this doctrine with a howl of wild applause, and set the prisoners fixe,
to walk the city, men of mark, and influence, and station, as tb.ey had bee;
fcefore.

Public opinion ! what class of men have an immense preponderance overt!-,'
rest of the community, in their power of representing public opinion in thi
legislature } the slave owners. They send from their twelve States one hun-
dred members, while the fourteen free States, with a free population ncaili
double, return but a hundred and forty-two. Before whom do the presidenti.d
candidates bow down the most humbly, on whom do they fawn the most foiitlK.
and for whose tastes do they cater the most assiduously in their servile protesta-
tions ? The slave owners always.

Public opinion ! hear the public opinion of the free South, as expressed by its
own members in the House of Representatives at Washington. " I have a great
respect for the chair," quoth North Carolina, ** I have a great respect for the chair
as an officer of the house, and a great respect for him personally ; nothing but
that respect prevents me from rushing to the table and tearing that petition -uhich
Bas just been presented for the abolition of slavery in the district of Columbia, to
pieces." — " I warn the abohtionists," says South Carolina, ** ignorant, infuiiateJ
barbarians as they are, that if chance shall throw any of them into our hands, be
may expect a felon's death." — "Let an abolitionist come within the borders of
South Carolina," cries a third ; m Id Carolina's colleague ; *' and if we can catch
him, we will try him, and notwithstanding the interference of all the governments
on earth, including the Federal government, we will hang him."

Public opinion has made this lav/. — It has declared that in Washington, in that
city which takes its name from the father of American liberty, any justice of the
peace may bind with fetters any negro passing dowi i the street and thrust him into
jail : no offence on the black man's part is necessary. The justice say.- " I choose
to think this man a runaway :" and locks him up. Public opinion impowers tlie
man of law when this is done, to advertise the negro in the newspapers, warning
his owner to come and claim him, or he will be sold to pay the jail fees. But sup-
posing he is a free black, and has no owner, it may naturally be presumed that he
is set at liberty. No : HE is sold to recompens'e his jailer. This has been
done again, and again, and again. He has no means of proving his freedom ; lias
no adviser, messenger, or assistance of any sort or kind ; no investigation into iiis
case is made, or inquiiy instituted. He, a free man, who may have sei-ved for years,
and bought his liberty, is thrown into jail on no process, for no crime, an(' ^-i no
pretence of crime : and is sold to pay the jail fees. This seems incredible, even of
America, but it is the law

Public opinion is deferred to, in such cases as the following : which is headed
in the newspapers : — , . .

** Interesting Law-Case

^' An interesting case is now on trial in the Supreme Court, arising out of the
following facts. A gentleman residing in Maryland had allo\'^'ed an aged pair of

>

i!il

heated the branding.
opinion threatens tfc
li^'s him M'ith a rop.
list city in the Eait'
at a slow fire in th-^
ined upon the beiui"
lerc to try his mur.
inion, and beina so
ide. Public oi)inio;;
the prisoners fix^
, as th.ey had bet-

)onderance over il; >
blic opinion in tlii
ve States one hun'
population ncailv
do the presidentiil
^vn the most fondly,
icir servile protesia.

as expressed by its

' "1 have a ^acat
respect for tiie dim
•nally ; nothing but

that petition which f
■ict of Columbia, to
ignorant, infuriated

into our hands, he
thin the borders of
and if we can catch
ill the governments

RuK^zv/7y Negroes.

137

>>

Vashington, in tliat
■, any justice of the
ind thrust him into
ice say. '« I choose
inion impoAvers tlie
jwspapers, warning
jail fees. But sup.
J presumed that ho
H. ^ This has been
I his freedom ; lias
^^estigation into his
re sei-ved for years,
3 crime, am' -1 no
incredible, even of

; which is headed

irising out of the
Jd an aged pair of

his slaves, substantial though not legal freedom for several years. While thus
living, a daughter was bora to tliem, who grew up in the same iiberly, until she
married a free negro, and went with him to reside in Pennsylvania . They had
several children, and lived unmolested until the original owner died, when his heir
attempted to regain them; but the magistrate before whom they we»c brought,
decided that he had no jurisdiction in the case. The owner seized theiuornan and
her children in the night, and carried them to Maryland.^^

" Cash for negroes," "cash for negroes," " cash for negroes," is the heading of
advertisements in great caj)itals down the long columns ol the crowded journals.
Woodcuts of a runaway negro with manacled hands, crouching beneath a bluff
})ursucr in toj) boots, who, having caught him, grasps him by the throat, agreeably
diversify tlie i)leasant text. The leading article protests against "that abominable
and hellish doctrine of abolition, which is repugnant alike to eveiy law of God and
nature." The delicate mama, who smiles her acquiescence in this sprightly
writing as she reads the paper in her cool piazza, quiets her youngest child who
clings about her skirts, by promising the boy " a whip to beat the little niggers
with." — But the negroes, little and big, are protected by public oj)inion.

Let us try this public opinion by another test, which is important in three points
(Si view : llrst, as showing how desperately timid of the public opinion slave
owners are, in their delicate descriptions of fugitive slaves in widely circulated
'newspapers ; secondly, as shoeing how perfectly contented the slave.' are, and
* ow very seldom they run away ; thirdly, as exhibiting their entire freedom from
scar, or blemish, or any marlc of cruel infliction, as their pictures arc drawn, not
"y b'hig abolitionists, but by their own truthful masters.

The following are a few specimens of the advertisements in the public papers,
t is only four years since the oldest among them appeared ; and others of the
same nature continue to be published ever)- day, in shoals.

" Ran away, Negress Caroline. Had on a collar with one prong turned
down."

*' Ran away, a black woman, Betsy. Had an iron bar on her right leg."

*' Ran away, the negro Manuel. Much marked with irons."

" Ran away, the negress Fanny. Had on an iron band about her neck."

" Ran away, a negro boy about twelve years old. Had round his neck a chain
dog-collar with * De Lamjiert ' engraved on it."

" Ran away, the negro Plown. Has a ring of iron on his left foot. Also, Grise,
his li'ifey having a ring and chain on the left leg."

" Ran away, a negro boy named James, iiaid boy was ironed when he left

^ " Committed to jail, a man who calls his name John. He has a clog of iron on
is right foot which will weigh four or five pounds."

" Detained at the police jail, the negio wench, INIyra. Has several marks of

.SHING, and has irons on her feet."

" Ran away, a negro woman and two children. A few davs before she went
ff, I burnt her with a hot iron, on the left side of her face. I tried to make the
etter M."

"Ran away, a negro man named Henrj- ; his left eye out, some scars from a
dirk on and under his left arm, and much scarred with the whip."

" One hundred dollars reward, for a negro fellow, Pompey, 40 years old. He
is branded on the left jaw."

" Committed to jail, a negro man. Has no toes on the left foot."

" Ran away, a negro woman named Rachel. Has lost all her toes except the
rge one."

•"~'~'—

■MM

138

American Notes.

" Ran away, vSam. lie was shot a short time since through the liand, and h;,,
several shots ni his left arm and side."

•• Ran away, my nej^Mo man Dennis. Said negro has been sliot in the left arm
between the shoulder and elbow, whieh has paralysed the left liand."

••Ran away, my negro man named Simon, lie has been shot bailly, in lij,
back and right arm."

*' Ran away, a negro named Arthur. Has a considerable scar acro>s lii,
breast ami each arm, made by a knife; loves to talk much of the goothit^
of God."

*' Twenty-five dollars reward for my man Isaac. He has a scar on his forclical,
caused by a blow ; and one on his back, made by a shot from a pistol."'

"Ran away, a negro girl called jNIary. Has a small scar over her eye, a goul
many teeth missing, the letter A- is branded on her cheek and forehead,"

" Ran away, negro Ben. Has a scar on his right hand; his thumb and foiv-
iinger being injurcfl by being shot last fall. Apart of the bone came out. IK
has also one or two laigc scars on his back ami hips."

*' Detained at the jail, a mulatto, named Tom. Has a scar on the right check,
ami ; ppears to have been burned with iiowder on the face."

*• Ran away, a negro man named Neil. Three of his fmgers are drawn into llic
j-)alm of his hand by a cut. Has a scar on the back of his neck, nearly half roimd.
done by a knile.'-'

" Was committed to jail, a negro man. Says his name is Josiah. His Ijaek
very much scarred by the whip ; and branded on tht thigh and hips in three oi
four places, thus (J M). The rim of his right ear has been bit or cut off."

"Fifty dollars reward, for my fellow Edward. He has a sea. on the corner ol
his mouth, two cuts on and under his arm, and the letter E on his arm."

" Ran away, negro boy Ellie. Has a scar on one of his arms from the bite of ,1
dog."

" Ran away, from the plantation of James Surgette, the following negroes:
Randal, has one ear cropped ; Bob, has lost ore eye ; Kentucky Tom, has one
jaw broken."

*' Ran away, Anthony. One of his ears cut off, and his left hand cut with ;iii

5>

axe.

*' Fifty dollars reward for the negro Jim Blake. Has a piece cut out of each
ear, and the middle fmger of the left hand cut olYto the second joint."

"Ran away, a negro woman named Maria. Has a scar on one side of licr
cheek, by a cut. Some scars on her back."

"Ran away, the Mulatto wench [Mary. Has a cut on the left arm, a scar on
the left shoulder, and two upper teeth missing."

I should say, perhaps, in explanation of this latter piece of description, that
among the other blessings which public opinion secures to the negroes, is the
common practice of violently punching out their teeth. To make them wear
iron collars by day and night, and to wony them with dogs, are practices almo-t
too ordinary to deseiTC mention.

" Ran away, my man Fountain. Has holes i" his ears, a scar on the right side
of his forehead, has been shot in the hind parts of his legs, and is marked on the
back with the whip."

"Two hundred and fifty dollars reward for my negro man Jim. He is much
marked with shot in his right thigh. The shot entered on the outside, halfway
between the hip and knee joints,"

" Brought to jail, John, Left ear cropt." '

" Taken up, a negro man. Is very much scarred about the face and body, and
has the left ear bit off."

III

s^

Dccch of Violence,

'59

the hand, and ha-

hot in the left ai-ii

nul."

shot bmlly, in hi

c scar across hj,
I of the /^ooihit-

r on his foiclicad

l)istol."

:\ her eye, a .^.i.;.l

reliead."

Ihunil) and fore
le came out. He

n the ri;,du clack,

ire ch-awn into the
nearly half round.

osiah. His l)ack
.1 liips in three or
• cut ofT."
on the corner of
s arm."
from the bite of a

owin}:^ ne<;rocs :
cy Tom, has one

land cut with an ,

cut out of each
:)int."
one side of her

't arm, a scar on

description, that

i negroes, is llic

lake them wear

practices almo-t

on the right side
marked on the

m. He is much
outside, haliwav

\ and body, and

\

Kan away, a l)lack girl, named .NCary. Has a scar on her check, and the end
iofone of her toes cut off."

" Kan away, my Mulatto woman, Judy. She has had her right arm broke.''
"Kan awav, my negro man, Levi. Mis left hand has been burnt, antl I think
fthr rnd of his forelinger is oil."

Krin away, a negro man, NAMKD Wasiuncton. Has lost a part of his
Smi'ldk finger,' and the end of his little fniger."

Twenty-live dollars reward for my man John. The tip of his nose is bit oil."
Iwenly-live dollars reward for the negro slave, Sally. Walks tw thout;/:
:rippled in the back."
" Fvan awav, Joe Dennis. Has a small notch in one; of his ears."
" Kan away, negro boy, Jack. Has a small crop out ''fhi-, left ear."
"Kan away, a negro man, named Ivory. Has a small piece cut out of the top
>f each car."

While upon the subject of ears, I may observe that a distinguished abolitionist

In New York once received a negro's ear, which had been cut ( iT close to the

.lead, in a general post letter. It was fonvarded by the free and Independent

[l^entleman who had caused it to be amputated, with a polite recpiest thai he would

place the specimen in his •' collection."

1 coidd enlarge this catalogue with broken arms, and broken legs, and gashed

lesh, and missing teeth, and lacerated backs, and bites of dogs, and brands of red-

lot ir(/ns innumerable : but as my readers M'ill be sufiiciently sickened and repelled

ilrcadv, I will tui n to another bi anch of the subject.

These advertisements, of which a similar collection might be made for every

.^ear, and month, and week, and day; and which are coolly read in families as

I things of course, and as a part of tlie current news and small-talk; will serve to

) ; show how very much the slaves nrolit by public opinion, and how tender it is in

'their behalf. But it may be worth while to inquire how the slave owners, and the

class of society to which great numbers of them belong, defer to public opinion in

their conduct, not to their slaves but to each other ; how they are accustonr-d to

restrain their passions ; what their bearing is among themselves ; whether thv^y

are fierce or j^entle ; whether their social customs be brutal, sanguinary, and

violent, or bear the impress of civilisation and refinement.

That we may have no partial evidence from abolitionists in this inquiiy, either,

^ I will once more turn to their own newspapers, and I will confine myself, this

time, to a selection from paragraphs which appeared from day to day, during my

■visit to'America, and which refer to occurrences happening while I was there. The

italics in these extracts, as in the foregoing, are my own.

These cases did not all occur, it will be seen, in territory actually belonging to

,egalised Slave States, though most, and those the very worst among them did, as

" eir counterparts constantly do ; but the position of the scenes oC- action in

fercnce to places immediately at hand, where slavery is the law ; and the strong

semblance between that class of outrages and the rest ; lead to the just presump-

on that the character of the parties concerned was formed in slave districts, and

rutalised by slave customs. , -

^^ HotTihle Tragedy.

" By a slip from T/ie Soiithport Telegraph, Wisconsin, we learn that the Hon.

Charles C. P. Aradt, Member of the Council for Brown county, was shot dead 07t

y^he JIoiTr of the CotincU chamber, by James R. Vinyard, ^^lember from Grant

'"''Sunty. TV/t? rt;/a/>- gi-ew out of a nomination for Sheriff of Grant county. Mr.

S. Baker was nominated and supported by Mr. Arndt. This nomination was

toposed by Vinyard, who wanted the appointment to vest in his own brother. In

i^

I+O

American Note.

'n

If ^

llic course of (Ichiilo, the deceased made sonic slatemciils which V'inyard pu).
nouiucd false, and made use of violent and insulliti;,' lan;,'ua^e, dealinj^ laij,'(l\ in
personalities, to which Mr. A. made no reply. After the adjournment, iMr. A.
stopped up to Vinyard, and re(iuested hin» to retract, which he refuseil to do,
repeating,' the ofl'ensive words. A[r. Arndt then made a Mow at Vinyanl, win,
stepped hack a pace, drew a pistol, and shot him dead.

*' The issue appears to have been provoked on the part of X'inyaril,' who \v,i.
delermined at all hazards to defeat the ajipointment of Jiakcr, ami who, hiiiM.li
defeated, turned his ire and revcnj^o upon the unfortunate Arndt."

" 'J7u' U'iironsin 7'rai:^iufy,

*'rul)lic intli^n.ition luns \\\^\\ in the territory of Wisconsin , in relation (o ih,'
murtlcr of (\ (!. 1'. Arndt, in the Le},Mslative Hall of the Territory. Mccliii;;,
have been lield in dill'erent counties of Wisconsin, denouncing' the practice of
scc/rtly luuinng- arms in /■//<• Lci^is/afixr cJiatnbt'rs of the conr.try. We have snn
the account of the expulsion of James li. N'inyard, the perpetrator of the bJootK
deed, and are ama/.cd to hear, that, after this expulsion by those who saw \'iii\ai(l
kill Mr. Arndt in the presence of his aj^ed father, who was on a visit to sec hi,
son, little dreamui}^ that he was to witness his minder, yin/i^v Dunn has <//,.
chargCii Viiiyani on hail. The AFiners' Free T'ress ■sy^cwks in terms of niciihd
jchukc at the outiage upon the feelinj^s of the people of Wisconsin. Vinyard \\,i,
within arm's lenj^th of Mr. Arndt, when he took such deadly aim at him, that \w
never s]>oke.. Vinvard might at pleasure, being so near, have only wounded him,
but he chose to kill him."

''.}fnnicr.

<'By a letter in a St. Louis paper of the 14th, wc notice a terrible outrage ;u
Burlington, Iowa. A Mr. Briilgman having hail a dilliculty with a citizen of tlu'
place, Mr. Ross ; a brother-in-law of \\\c latter i)rovided himself with one of (!()1(\
revolving pistols, met Mr. B. in the street, and dischari^cd the contents of fire of
the barrels at him : each shot AzXvV/i,-- effect. Mr. B., though horribly >\'ouui.
and dying, returned the fire, and killed Ross on the spot."

L\l,

" Terrible Death of Robert Potter.

''From the 'Caddo Gazette,' of the 12th inst., we learn the frightful death of

Colonel Robert Potter He was beset in his house by an enemy, naiuoil

Rose. He sprang from his couch, seized his gun, and, in his night-clothes, rushed
from the house. For about two hundred yards his speed seemed to defy lii>>
pui-suei-s ; but, getting entangled in a thicket, he was captu'cd. Rose told liiiu
that he intended to act a generous part, and give him a chance for his life. He
then told Potter he might run, and he should not be interrupted till he reached
a certain distance. Potter started at the wonl of command, and before a gun Mas
lired he had reached the lake. His lirst imi")ulse was to jump in the water and
dive for it, which he did. Rose was close behind him, and formed his men oil
the bank reaily to shoot him as he rose. In a few seconds he came up to brcatlie;
and scarce had his head reached the surface of the water when it was completely
riddled with the shot of their guns, and he sunk, to rise no more !"

*^ Murder in Arkansas.

" Wc understand that a sci'cre rencontre came off a. few days since in the Seneca
Nation, between Mr. Loose, the sub-agent of the mixed band of the Senecas,
Ouapaw, and Shawnees, and Mr. James Gillespie, cf the mercantile firm of
Thomas G. Allison and Co., of Maysville, Benton, County Ark, in which the

More Deeds of Violence.

141

latter was slain with a bowic-l<nifc. Some flifficulty had for some time existed
bclwiTU the parties. Ft is said that Major (iillcspic biouj,'!^ on the attack with
a eane. A severe eonfhet ensued, (hiring' whieh two ^)istols were lircd by (Villespie
and one by j.oose. Loose then stabbed (lines|)ie with one of those never-faihn^,'
weajions, a bowie-knife. The death of Major (i. is much re{,'ietled, as lie was a
liberal-minded an(' ener^'etic man. Since the above was in type, wc have learned
that Major Allison has stated to some 01 our citizens in town that Mr. Loose j,'avc
the lirst blow. We forbear to ^ive any particulars, as the tmxttcr ivill be the
iuhjt\( Iff judicial invent igdtion,'^

'' I\>ul Deed.

" The steamer Thames, just from Missouri river, brought us a handbill, ofierinj;
a reward of 5(X) dollars, for the person who assassinated Lilburn W. Jia^'j^s, late
(iovernor of "this State, at Lulependenee, on the ni;,dit of the 6th inst. (iovernor
Baj,';,'^, it is stated in a written memorandtnn, was not dead, but mortally wounded.

♦• Since the above was written, we received a note from tiie clerk of the Thames,
civin},' the following,' particulars, (iov. Ba},'{,'s was shot by some villain on Friday,
6th in'-t., in the eveninj,', while sitting in a ro(,m in his own house in Independence.
His son, a boy, hcarinj,' a report, ran into the room, and found the (jovernor
sitting,' in his chair, with his jaw fdlen down, and his head Icaninj,' back; on dis-
coveriu}^' the injury done to his father, he {,'ave the alarm. Toot tracks were found
in the j^arden below the window, and a pisl(d picked up suj)posed to have been
overloaded, and thrown from the hand of the scoundrel who lired it. Three buck
shots of a heavy load, took effect ; one ^oinj,' throu}4h his mouth, one into the
brain, and another probably in or near the brain; all Roinj,' into the back part (;f
the neck and head. The (Iovernor was still alive on the mripinj,' of the 7th ; but
no hopes for his recovery by his fr.iends, and but sli^lit hopes from his physicians.

"A man was suspected, and the Shcrilf most probably has possession of him
by this time.

" The pistol was one of a pair stolen some days previous from a baker in Inde-
pendence, and the legal authorities have the dcscrij)lion of the other."

♦ ' Rencontre. .

•'An unfortunate nffair took place on Friday cveninj,' in Chatrcs Street, in

which one of our most respectable citizens received a dunf,'erous wound, from a

rpoignard, in the abdomen. From the liee (New Orleans) of jcstcrclay, Ave Icam

the follow-ing particulars. It appears that an article was published in the French

side of the paper on Monda^ last, containing Jtomc strictures on the Artillery

Battalion for firing their guns on Sunday morning, in answer to those from the

Ontario and Woodbury, and thereby much alarm was caused to the families of

those persons who were out all night preserving the peace of the city. Major C.

Gaily, Commander of the batialion, resenting this, called at the office and demanded

the author's name ; that of Mr. P. Arpin was given to him, who was absent at the

; time. Some angry words then passed with one of the proprietors, and a challenge

[followed ; the friends of both parties tried to arrange the affair, but failed to do

so. On Friday evening, about seven o'clock, Major Gaily met ^Mr. P. Arpin in

'Chatrcs Street, and accosted him, 'Are you Mr. Arpin ?'

"'Yes, Sir.'

[, " ' Then I have to tell you that you are a ' (applying an appropriate epithet).

I "'I shall remind you of your words, sir.'

*" But I have said I would break my cane on your shoulders.'

•* ' I know it, but I have not yet received the blow.'

"At these words, Major Gaily, having a cane in his hands, struck :Mr. Arpin

i

'; I

tf V

5 ^m.

'4*

American Notes*

;u:ross the face, aiul the lallcr drew a poi^naid from liis porhcl and stal»l)Ci| M,|i„
dally in (he aluloiucn.

" I'Vais aic tntotaincd thai the Mtunid will be nidtlal. U'c utiJrpwf.tnJ
Mr. At-piti hiis given ururity J\*r his i}pl>i\ir(iiui' at the Ciiniiual i'oiat to ans:
the chixrgcy

II.

^.fi

/tir I

// Mi

\si.\\si/>/>/

IIH'I,

in;;

••On the 27(1\, ult., in an alVrav near Caithaj^e, Leake connty, iNrissis'^jppj
between James ('ottin^^^haiu and jdl'ii Wilhuin. the latter was shot by the Inn
and so hoivibly woumU'd, tli.il tluic was no hope of his ?ecoveiy. ( )»i liu-
instant, there was an alViav at ("aithaj^e between A. ('. Shaikey and (ieoij^ol
in whieh tlie latter was shot, and thouj^ht ni*)i(ally wounded. Sharkey dtliv
hinixclfui) to (lie authorities, /mt ihiitnyi/ his ininif (Hit/ rsro/wi

'* JVrsoftif/ L'h ''Otter,

'•An cneoimlei- toolv plaee in Sparta, a lew days sinee. between the bailu'
of an hotel, and a man named Hiiry. It appears that lUny had become sonic

f"

v\\\

noisy, otut thill the thirkerf^rr, dctcrtniiwJ to fovsen'C orJt'r, hiui thrt'iitrnrd to sh
Hiiry, whereiipon Bury drew a pistol and shot the barkeeper down. lie wis i;
dead at the last aecounts, but sh;.;ht hopes weie entertained of his recovery."

«• Duel.

•'The eleik of the steaml)oat Tribune inlorms us that another iluel was fun;'
on Tuesday last, by Mr. Robbins, a bank ollieer in Vicksbur^. and Mv. hall,
editor of the Vieksburij Sentinel. According; to the arrani^ement, the paities i
six pistols each, which, alter the word • b'ire ! ' t/iev -.cerr A> (tischnrge as J'i.\'
they /^/ease<f. b'all lired two ]iislols without elVeci. Mr, Ko])bins' lirst shot I. \
ciVeci in Fall's lliigli, who fell, and was imable io continue the combat."

*^ Affray in Clarke d'untv.

"An unfortunate rr//)vn' occurred in Claike coimly (^^o.), near Walei loo,
Tuesday tlu i<)th ult.. wliich originated in seltliuj; the partnership coneein
Messi-s. M'Kane and M'AIlister, who had been en.^ayed in the l)usiness of i! -
lillitii:;, and resulted in the death of the latter, who Avas shot down by Mr. AT'Isa;,,
because of his attempting to take possession of seven barrels of whiskey, t!,.
property of M'Kane, which liati been knocked ofl" to M'AIlister at a sherilV's mI'
at one dollar per barrel. ISt'Kanc innnediately lied and at the latest dates had ;; ;
been taken.

*• This unfortunate rt;^>vn' caused considerable excitement in the ncij^hbourliool,
as both the parties were men v.ith largo families ilepending upon them and st(\)J
well in the community."

I will quote but one more paragraph, Mhich, by reason of its monstrous absuicli;y,
may be a relief to thcije atrocious deeds. •

^^ A (fair of Honour.

'* "We have just heard the particulars of a meeting wl'ich took ]-)lacc on Six Mik
Island, on Tuesday, between two young bloods of our city : .Samuel Tluiistor.,
a^ed fifteen, and William lline, agod thirteen years. They were attended ly
young gentlemen of the same age. The weapons used on the occasion, wore a
couple of Dickson's best ritlcs ; the distance, thirty yards. They took one lire.
without any damage being sustained by either party,' except the ball of Thurslnn's
gun passing througli the crown of liine's hat. Through the intereession of ihi

Nothing tvorsc than S/iivrry.

H3

Icrt nnd s(aM),>,| m,: ,

llic nd-^'libninlinn',
pon llicin anil st,< J

lonstroiis absui\li;v.

/)-;/,/ of Honour, the challenge was witluliawn, and the difTcrcncc amicably

ailjustctl."

If (lie reader will pirtnroto himself tlic l(ind of P.oard nf TTonotn- wtilrlj nmieaMy
ndjii-^UMJ the (lillnenec between these two little boys, who in any (Mlier part Wtlie
voild would have be( ii ainieably adjuste(| on two porters' baeks and soiuidly
flo)L:)^'ed with biiehen rods, he will be nosscsscd, no doubt, with as strong a sense
ol ii^ ludicrous character, as that which sets nie lan^jhinj,' whenever its image rises
np bfloie me.

Now, I ajipeal to every human mind, imbued with the eommoncst of common
sense, and the eomnioiust of common humanity; to all disiiassionate, reasf)ninj^'
eteature^, of any ^liadi- ol" opinion ; and ask, with these tevolling evi<len(:es of the
.late of society which exists in and about the slave districts of America before
them, can they have a doubt of the real condition of the slave, or can they for a
lonu'iil make a conipmnii-e between the institution or any of its flagrant fearful
r(\iture>, and tlieii own jii:^! consciences ? Will they say of any tale of cruelly and
liorna, liowevcr aggravated in degree, that it is imj)robable, when they can turn
to the public prints, and, running, read such signs as these, lai<l befoif them by
the men who rule the slaves : in tluir own acts an<l imder their own i ands ?

Do we not know that the worst deformity and ugliness of slavery are at once (he

cause and the ellect of the reckless license taken by these freeborn outlaws ? Do

we not know that the man who has been bom and bred among its wrongs; who

[has seen in his childhood husbands obliged at the woni of command to Hog their

\vi\es; women, indecently comjielled to hold up their own garments that men

|miglit lay tin- heavier stripes upon thei? legs, driven and harried by brutal over-

isceis in their time of travail, and becoming mothers on the held (jf toil, under the

Ivcry lash itself; who has read in youth, an-.l seen his virgin sisters read, dcscrij)-

Itions of runaway men and women, and their disfigured j)ersons, which could not

|bc ])ublished elsewhere, of so much stock wyiun a farm, or at a show fif beasts : —

|clo we not know that (hat man, wlienever his wrath is kindled up, will be a brutal

savage .'' Do we not know that as he is a coM'ard in his domestic life, stalking

among his slniid<ing men and women slaves armed with his heavy whiji, so he

will be a cowai'd out of doors, ami carrying cowards' weapons hidden in his breast,

Mill shoot men down and stab them when he (juarrels ? And if otir reason did

Inot teach us this and much beyond ; if wc were such idiots as to close our eyes to

Ithal fine mode of tiaining which rears up such men ; should we not know that they

hvho among their ecjuals stal) and pistol in the legislative halls, and in the counting-

piouse, and on the market-place, and in all the elsewhere peaceful pursuits of life,

iiust be to their (lei)cndants, even though they were free servants, so many merciless

md unrelenting tyrants ?

What ! shall we declaim against the ignorant peasantry of Ireland, and mince

le matter when these American taskmasters arc in (piestion ? Shall wc cry sh.imc

)n the brutahty of those who ham-string cattle : and spare the lights of Freedom

ipon earth who notch the ears of men and women, cut jjleasant posies in the

Inrinking flesh, learn to write with pens of red-hot iron on the human face, rack

^heir poetic fancies for liveries of mutilation which their slaves shall wear for life

md carry to the grave, breaking living limbs as did the soldiery who mocked and

lew the Saviour of the world, and set defenceless creatures up Tor targets ! Shall

fQ whimper over legends of the tortures practised on each other by the Pagan

tndians, and smile upon the cruelties of Christian men ! Shall we, so long as

fcese things last, exult above the scattered remnants of that race, and trium])h in

pe M'hite enjoyment of their possessions } Rather, for me, restore the forest and

|ie Indian village ; in lieu of stars and stripes, let some poor feathenilluttcr in the

.«^M.1

u ..

'f

in

M4

Jfnericiw Notes.

breeze; replace the streets nml sq'iarc;; I y wij^wams ; and ihouKh the dcath-son;;
of 1 hutvlreil hauj^jhty warriors lill tlic air, it will be music to the shriek of {%
imhapjw viavc.

On one theme, v.liieli is commonly before our eyes, and in respect of whithoiirj
national character is ch.^nKinf,' fast, lei the plain Truth be spoken, and let us not,
like dastards, belt about the bush by hintini^ at the Spaniard and the Hai^
Italian. When knives are thawn by Knj^lishmen in conllict let it be saiij .in;
known : •* We owe this chanj^e to Republican Slavery. These are the wcapor,,
of Freedom. \Vith sharp |)c)ints and ed^'es such as these, Liberty in Aimiiu
iiews and hacks her slaves ; or, failin;,' that pursuit, her sons devote them to ,
better use, and turn them on each other."'

CIIAPTEU XVI 1 1.

C O N CLU n 1 N G R V. M A R K S.

TiiF.RE arc man'' passafics in this book, wlicre I have been at some pains tn ic\-'
the temptation of troublin<jj my readers with my own deductions and conclusinih:
prefcnin<;; that they should judj^e for themselves, from such premises as I lia\i
laid before them. My only o!)ject in the outset, was, to carry them with n.ej
faithfully wheresoever I went : and that task i have discharged.

r.iit i may be })rirdone».l, if on such a '.heme as the ;^eneral character of iL
American people, and the <;eneral character of their social system, as presented i
r. sttan^',or's eyes, I desire to express my own opinions in a few words, before 1
oring these volumes to a close.

They are, by nature, fr'^nk, bra^e, cordial, hospitable, and afTectionate. Ciilir
vation and refmement seem but to enhance their warmth of heart and aider.:
enthusiasm ; and it is the possession of these latter qualities in a most rcninrk.il'
degree, which rcncl?is an educated American one of the most endearing and nii ,
generous of frienas, I never was so won upon, as by this class ; never yielilcd i;;
my full confidence and esteem so readily and pleasurably, as to them; never can mil;.
again, in half-a-year, so many friends for whom I seem to enteitain the regard c
half a life.

These qualities are natural, I implicitly believe, to the whole people. That they
are, however, sadly sapped and blighted in their growth among the mass ; .mi
that there arc inllucnces at work which endanger them still more, and /e kt
little present promise of their healthy restoration ; is a truth that ought ti ")c toll!,

It is an essential part of every national cnaracter to pique itself might'l- iponii:
faults, and to deduce tokens of its virtue or its wisdom from their vei_ exaggera-
tion. One f^reat blemish in the popular mind of America, and the proht* jxircrt
of an innumerable brood of evils, is Universal Distrust. Yet the American citizen
plumes himself upon this spirit, even when he is sufficiently dispassionate to perceive
the ruin it Vv'orks ; and will often adduce it, in spite of his own. reason, as an
instance of the great sagacity and acuteness of the people, and their superior
shrewdness and independence.

♦* Ycu cany," says the siranger, ** this jealousy and distrust into eveiy trails
action of public life. By repelling worthy men from your legislative assemblies, it
has bred up a class of candidates l^or the suffrage, who, in their every act, disgrace
your Institutions and your people's choice. It has rendered you sa'sfidde, and so
gi/eii to change, that your inconstancy has passed into a proverb; for you no

Sm/inness.

145

'u^^'h the (Icath-son-i
to the shriek of w,'

respect of which oi;r |
• ilceii, and Ki us not
ni.ird and (lie lan,!
Lt let it he said .in; j
lesc arc the weapoR.
Liberty in Anuii
IS devote them t-,

; some pains to vc-i-:
3ns ancl concliisinn>:
1 premises as I hn,.
cairy them with :;
xl.

oral cliaractcr of ih.

stem, as presented 1-

few words, before

afTcctionatc. Ciili:-
of heart and arcK:
in a most rcniarkal '
; endearing ami nii ,
ss ; never yieldcf
hem; never can m,!l;
teitain the rc;,'aid c

e people. That the.
long the mass ; an;

more, and vo 1 ;;
hat onght ti ie tol :.
5elf might'!' iponii.-

their vei_ "xaggcn-
xl the pro'hh parent
the American citizen
:)assionate to perceive

own. reason, as an
, and their superior

1st into eveiy tran?-
slative assemblies, ii
r every act, disgrace
^^ou so'Jficlde, and so
Droverb ; for you no

sooner set up an idol fumly, than you are sure to pull it down and dash it into

fragments : and this, because directly you rewrrd a benefartor, or a public servant,

jOiT<li^trusthim, merely because he is rewarded ; and. i>nm'-di,»tely apply yourselves

to find i)iit, either that you hue been too bountiful in your acknowledgments, or

e remits in his deserts. Any man who attains a high place among you, from the

.'lesident downwards, mav dale his downfall from that mcmienl ; for any printed

ie that anynot()rit)Us villam pens, although it mililatc diiectly against the character

and coiKhict of a life, appeals at once to your distrust, and is believed. You will

strain at a gnat in the way of trustfidness and confidence, h(nvevcr fairly won and

■well deserved ; hut you will swallow a whole cara\an of camels, if they be laden

villi unworthy doubts r.'id mean suspicions. Is this well, think you, or likely to

elevate the character of the governors or the governed, among you .^''

The answer is invariably the same: "There's freedom of opini<m here, you
Itnow. I'^very man thinks for him'-tlf, and we are not to be easily overreached.
I^That's how our |)eople come to be suspicious."

l Another prominent feature is the love of " smart " dealing : which gilds over
many a swindle and gross breach of trust ; many a defalcation, jjublic and private ;
and enables many a knave to hold his head up with the best, who well deserves a
lalter ; though it has not been without its retributive operation, ft/r this smartness
as done more in a few years to impair the public credit, and to crij)plc the public
f resources, than didl honesty, however rash, could have eflected in a century. The
i! merits of a broken speculation, or a bankruptcy, or of a successful scoundrel, arc
not gauged by its or his observance of the golden rule, ** Do as you would be done
Ly," but arc considered with reference to their smartness, I recollect, on both
ccasions of our jiassing that ill-fated Cairo on the Mississipni, lemarking on the
•ad efl'ecls such gross deceits must have when they exploded, m generating a want of
onfidence abroad, and discouraging foreign investment : but I was given tounder-
*6tand that this was a very smart scheme by which a deal of money liad been made :
find that its smartest feature was, that they forgot these things abroad, in a very
" hort time, and speculated again, as freely as ever. The following dialogue I have
eld a hundred times : " Is it not a vcrj- disgraceful circumstance that such a man
as So and So shoidd be acquiring a large property by the most infamous and
. odious means, and notwithstanding all the crimes of which he has been guilty,
should be tolerated and abetted by your Citizens } He is a public nuisance, is he
,not?" "Yes, sir." " A convicted liar .? " " Yes, sir." " He has been kicked,
and cuffed, and caned.?" "Yes, sir." "And he is utterly dishonourable, de-
based, and profligate.?" "Yes, sir." "In the name of wonder, then, what is
his merit } " " Well, sir, he is a smart man." v

In like manner, all kinds of deficient and impolitic usages are referred to the
. National love of trade ; though, oddly enough, it would be a weighty charge against
i|a foreigner that he regarded the Americans as a trading people. The love of trade
• is assigned as a reason for that comfortless custom, so very prevaL'nt in country
, . towns, of married persons living in hotels, having no fireside of their own, and
■seldom meeting from early morning until late at night, but at the hasty public
meals. The love of trade is a reason why the literature of America is to remain
for ever unprotected : " For we are a trading people, and don't care for poetry :"
.though we do, by the way, profess to be very proud of ovr poets : while healthful
.amusements, cheerful means of recreation, and wholesome fancies, must fade before
iithe stern utilitarian joys of trade.

These three characteristics are strongly presented at every turn, full in the
granger's view. But, the foul growth of America has a more tangled root than
:his ; and :t strikes its fibres, deep in its licentious Press.
Schools may be erected, East, West, North, and South ; pupils be taught, and

/

146

Amtrican Notes,

/,f:

I'!

kli:

I fii

masters reared, by scores \\\m\\ scores of (lious;ui(l,s ; coUc^jes may thrive, rIlllr(^l^|
maybe crammed, temperance may he difl'uscd, ami advancing l<n(>wli(I'_;c jp j I
other forms walk through the land with j,'iant strides : but while the iu\vsp.ip(jl
press of America is in, or near, its present abject state, hij^di moral imiiKncnknJ
in that country is hopeless. Year by year, it must and will j,'o back ; yeai hvyf;,,!
the tone of public feeliiij,' must sink lower down ; year by year, the C.'oii^iuVs ,,n I
the Senate nmst become of less account before all decent nu-n ; and year by v^^A
the memory of the (ireat Fathers of the Revolution must be outraged more anJ
more, in the bad life of their degenerate child. I

Among the henl of journals which are published in the States, there are sortie I
the reader scarcely need be told, of character and credit. From personal jmcr. I
coul^e with accomplished gentlemen connected wilh publications of this duss,]
have derived both pleasure and profit. \\\\\ the name of these is Few, riKJ oft}.,,
others Legion ; and the inlluence of the good, is powerless to counteract tlicniord
poison of the bad.

Among the gentry of America ; among the well-informed and moderate : in the
learneil professions; at the bar and on the bench : there is, as there can be. hi::
one opinion, in reference to the vicious character of these infamous journals. [
is sometimes contended — I will not say strangely, for it is natural to seek cxciisiJ
for such a disgrace — that their influence is not so great as a visitor would siippon '
I must be pariloned for saying that there is no warrant for this plea, and that cvc. '
i-ACi and circumstance tends directly to the oj),,osite conclusion.

When any man, of any grade of desert in intellect or character, can cliniii' .
any public distinction, no matter what, in America, without first grovelling,' (low
upon the earth, and bending the knee before this monster of depravity ; when p.i,

Crivatc excellence is safe from its attacks ; when anj- social confidence is left m;
roken by it, or any tie of social decency and honour is held in the least re(,'ar' .
when any man in that free countiy has freedom of ojiinion, and presumes to ilii;., ,
for himself, and speak for himself, without humble reference to a censorship wliicli, \
for its rami)ant ignorance and base dishonesty, he utterly loi'-thes and dcspisc^in"
liis heart ; when those who most acutely feel its infamy and the reproach it ot-
upon the nation, and who most denounce it to each other, dare to set their iiccl-
upon, and crush it openly, in the sight of all men : then, I will believe that it-
influence is lessening, and men are returning to their manly senses. But while
that Press has its evil eye in every house, and its black hand in every appoinlmen;
in the state, from a president to a postman ; while, with ribald slander for its only (
stock in trade, it is the standard literature of an enormous class, who must fin;
their reading in a newspaper, or they will not read at all ; so long must its odiun.
be upon the country's head, and so long must the evil it works, be plainly visili
in the Republic.

To those who are accustomed to the leading English journals, or to the respect-
able journals of the Continent of Europe ; to those who arc acdustomed to anything
else in print and paper ; it would be impossible, without an amount of extract for
which I have neither space nor inclination, to convey an adequate idea of thi«
frightful engine in America. But if any man desire confirmation of my statement
on this head, let him repair to any place in this city of London, where scatterc!
numbers of these publications are to be found ; and there, let him form his owti
opinion.*

?»Nr|

* NoTK TO THE Origixal EDITION.— Or let him refer to an able, and perfectly tnithful
article, in The Foreign Quarterly Revieiv, published in the present niontli of October ; to wiiich
my attention has been attracted, since these sheets have been passing through the press. He will
find some specimens there, bj' no means remarkable to any man who has been in America, but
sufficiently striking to one who has not.

Sects, cmigrmts from EngUitul.

'47

It would be well, there can be no doubt, for the Anicriiaii neoplc as a w}iolc,
it they loved the Real less, and the Ideal somewhat more. It would be well, if
there were jjreater encouragement to lif,'lUness of heart and j^aicty, and a widtr
cultivation of what is beautiful, without beiuj^ eminently and directly useful, iiut
hire. I think the general remonstrance, "we are a new country," which is so
often advanced as an excuse f(jr defects which are (|uite unjustifiable, as being, ol
ri^'ht, only the slow growth of an old one, may be very reasonably uij^cvl : and 1
yet hojie to hear of there bein^ some other national amusement in the United Slate*;,
besides news|)a|)er politics.

They certaiidy are not a humorous |)eoi)le, and their temperament always im-
pressed me as beinj,' of a dull and ^,'loomy character. Jn shrewdness of remark,
and a certain cast-iron (juaintness, the Yankees, or people of New Kn^dand, un-
questionably take the lead ; as they do in most other evidences of intelligence.
But m tr.ivelliji}^ about, out of the larj^e cities — as I have remarked in former jiatls
of these volumes — 1 was cjuite oppressed by the prevailinj,' seriousness and melan-
\ choly air of business : which was so j^encral and unvarying,', that at every new town
I came to, I seemed to meet the very same people whom I had left LlJnd me,
' at the last. Such defects as are i)crceptible in the national manners, seem, to nie,
to be referable, in a j,'reat de{,'rec, to this cause : which has ^'cnerated a dull, sidlen
r • persistence in coarse usa{,'es, and rejected the {^'races of life as undeserving of
■4 attention. There is no doubt that '\Vashinj,'ton, who was always most scruj)ulous
'"" and exact on points of ceremony, perceived the tendency towards this mistake,
even in his time, and did his utmost to correct it.

1 cannot hold with other writers on these subjects that the prevalence of various
forms of dissent in America, is in any way attributable to the non-existence there
of an established church : indeed, 1 think the temper of the people, if it admitted
of such an Institution bein^' founded amongst them, would lead them to desert it,
as a matter of course, merely because it was established. But, sujiposing it to
exist, 1 doubt its probable efiicacy in summonin;^' the wandering sheep to ore great
(old, simjdy because of the immense amount of dissent which prevails at home ;
and because I do not find in America any one form of religion Wi ''■.■. wlii']\ we in
Europe, or even in England, arc unacquamted. Dissenters resort thithei' in great
[numbers, as other i)eople do, simply because it is a land of resort ; and great setllc-
jments of them are founded, because ground can be purchased, and towns and
'f villages reared, where there were none of the human creation before. But even
^<;thc vShakers emigrated from England ; our country is not imknown to Mr. Joseph
I^^Smilh, the apostle of Mormonism, or to his benighted disciples ; I have beheld
ireligious scenes myself in some of our populous towns which can hardly be sur-
assed by an American camp-meeting ; and I am not aware that any instance of
uperstitious imposture on the one hand, and superstitious credulity on the other,
|,has had its origin in the United States, which we cannot more than parallel by the
recedents of Mrs. Southcote, Mary Tofts the rabb.t-brceder, or even Mr. Thorn
f Canterbury : which latter case arose, some time after the dark ages had passed
.way.
The Republican Institutions of America undoubtedly lead the people to assert
eir self-respect and their equality ; but a traveller is bound to bear those Insti-
tions in his mind, and not hastily to resent the near approach of a class of
ttrangers, who, at home, would keep aloof. This characteristic, when it was
'-ctured with no foolish pride, and stopped short of no honest service, never
" nded me ; and I very seldom, if ever, experienced its rude or unbecoming dis-
y. Once or twice it was comically developed, as in the following case ; but this

an amusing incident, and not the rule, or near it.
I wanted a pair of boots at a certain town, for I had none to travel in, but those

with the memorable cork soles, which were nmch too hot for the ficiy decks of a
steam-boat. I therefore sent a message to an artist in boots, importing, with irv
compliments, that 1 should be happy to see him, if he would do me the polii'
favour to call. He very kindly returned for answer, that he would " look round'
at six o'clock that evening.

I was lying on the sofa, with a book and a wine-glass, at about that time, uIk:
the door opened, and a gentleman in a stiff cravat, within a year or two on eiilic
side of thirty, entered, in his hat and gloves ; walked up to the looking-gla-<;
arranged his huir ; took off his gloves ; slowly produced a measure from the ulti:
most depths of iiis coat pocket ; and requested me, in a languid tone, to " unb:
my straps. I complied, but looked with some curiosity at his hat, which was s'l
uj)on his head. It might have been that, or it might have been the heat — but !
took it off. Then, lit sat himself down on a chair opposite to me ; rested an ai
on each knee ; and, leaning forward very much, took from the ground, by a ^tl . ^
effort, the specimen of metropolitan workmanship which I had just pullccl off: W
whisthng, pleasantly, as he did so. He turned it over and over ; surveyed it wi
a contempt no language can express; and inquired if I wished him to fix me u.
boot like thaf ? I courteously replied, that provided the boots were large enough, |f
I would leave the re... to him ; that if convenient and practicable, I should notl^
object to their bearing some resemblance to the model then before him ; but l!) ;
I would be entirely guided by, and would beg to leave the whole subject to, !i
judgment and discretion. " You an't particklcr, about this scoop in the heel, i
suppose then.?" says he: "we don't foller that, here." I repeated my la-;
observation. He looked at himself in the glass rgam ; went closer to it tod; :
a grain or two of dust out of the comer of his eye ; itnd settled his cravat. A!
this time, my leg and foot were in the air. "Nearly ready, sir .? " I inqniied.
'* Well, pretty nigh," he said ; " keep steady." I kept as steady as I could, bet':.
in foot and face; and having by this time grl the dust out, and found his penc;'-
case, he measured me, and made the necessary notes. When he had finished, 1:.
fell into his old attitude, and taking up the boot again, mused for some time,
" And this," he said, at last, " is an English boot, is it } This is a London boo;,
eh ?" "That, sir," I replied, "is a London boot." He mused over it again.
after the manner of Hamlet with Yorick's skull ; nodded his head, as who should
say, " I pity the Institutions that led to the production of this boot ! " ; rose; pu;
up his pencil, notes, and paper — glancing at himself in the glass, all the time— pii; ^
on his hat ; drew on his gloves very slowly y and finally walked out. When he
had been gr,ne about a minute, the door reopened, and his hat and his head re-
a})peared. He looked round the room, and at the boot again, which was still lying
on the floor ; appeared thoughtful for a minute ; and tlen said " Well, good arlcr-
noon." •' Good afternoon, sir," said I : and that was the end of the interview.

There is but one other head on which I wish to offer a remark ; and that h:.-
reference to the public health. In so vast a country, where there are thousands of
millions of acres of land yet unsettled and uncleared, and on every rood of which,
vegetable decomposition is annually taking place ; where there are so many great
rivers, and such opposite varieties of climate ; there cannot fail to be a gi-eat amount
of sickness at certain seasons. But I may venture to say, after conversing with
many members of the medical profession in America, that I am not singular in
the opinion that much of the disease which does prevail, might be avoided, if a
few common precautions were observed. Greater means of personal cleanliness,
are indispensable to this end ; the custom of hastily swallowing large quantities of ■
animal food, three times a-day, and rushing back to sedentary pursuits after each
meal, must be changed ; the gentler sex must go more wisely clad, and take more
healthful exercise ; and in the latter clause, the males must be included also.

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bout that time, \vlKr. \
year or two on ciih
,0 the looking-o];,.,
sasure from llie uttc.
pid tone, to "iinlix'
is hat, whicli was s'.l
3een the heat— but h.
to me ; rested an ari:.
he ground, by a ;;t, •
had just pulled" (, I
ver ; surveyed it \\:„
ished him to fix iih
its were large enou"i;,
:ticable, I should m , ,.
before him ; but that ^
whole subject to, hi; |
s scoop in the heel. I ''
I repeated my ]a>t :
tit closer to it to ch '
ttled his cravat. Ai
idy, sir?" I inqnirai.
eady as I could, bci::
md found his pencil-
Ti he had finished, h
lused for some time.
his is a London boi :,
mused over it agai;;.
head, as who shoulii
is boot ! "; rose; p'j:
ass, all the time— pi:; ^
liked out. When lie
hat and his head re-
which was still lyiii,^
d "Well, goodaiici-
d of the interview,
mark ; and that h:.<
liere are thousands of
every rood of which,
;re are so many great
to be a gi-eat amount
after conversing with
I am not singular in
light be avoided, if a
personal cleanliness,
rag large quantities of .
y pursuits after ench
clad, and take more
st be included also.

t

ibove all, in public institutions, and throughout the whole of eveiy town and city,
le system of ventilation, and clrainage, and removal of impurities requires to be
lOfoughly revised. There is no local Legislature in America which may not study
tr. Chadwick's excellent Report upon the Sanitary Condition of our Labouring
plasscs, with immense advantage.

I HAVE now arrived at the close of this bocjk. I have little reason to believe,
om certain warnings I have had since I returned to England, that it will be ten-
erly or favourably received by the American people ; and as I have written the
Vuth in relation to the mass of those who form their judgments and express their
pinions, it will be seen that I have no desire to court, by any adventitious means,
Bie popular apj)lause.

, It is enoujjh for me, to know, that what I have set down in these pages, cannot
^ost me a sinj^lc friend on the other side of the Atlantic, who is, in anything,
deserving of the name. For the rest, I put my trust, iinplicitly, in the spirit in
vhich they have been conceived and penned ; and I can bide my time.

I have made no reference to my reception, nor have I suffered it to influence me
ill what I have written ; for, in cither case, I should have offered but a sorry
jicknowledgment, compared with that I bear M'ithin my breast, towards those par-
tial readers of my former books, across the Water, who met mc with an open
l^and, and not with one that closed upon an iron niuzzlc.

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THE LONG VOYAGE.

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THE LONG VOYAGE.

WilKN llic \\'n\(\ is blowing and llie slcct or rain is driving against the dark
w iiulows, I love to sit by the fire, thinking of what I have read in books of voyage
and travel. Such books have had a strong fascination for niy mind from my earliest
I hildhood ; and I wonder it should have come to pass that I never have been round
the world, never have been shipwrecked, ice-environed, tomahawked, or eaten.

Sitting on my ruddy hearth in the twilight of New Year's Eve, I find incidents
(if travel rise around me from all the latitudes and longitudes of the globe. They
observe no order or sequence, but appear and vanish as they will — "come like
shadows, so depart." Columbus, alone upon the sea with his disaffected crew,
looks over the waste of waters from his high station on the poop of his ship, and
sees the first uncertain glimmer of the light, "rising and falling with the waves,
like a torch in the bark of some fisherman," which is the shining star of a new
world. Bruce is caged in Abyssinia, surrounded by the gory horrors which shall
often startle him out of his sleep at home when years have passed away. Franklin,
come to the end of his unhappy overland journey — would that it had been his last I
— lies perishing of hunger with his brave companions : each emaciated figure
stretched upon its miserable bed without the power to rise : all, dividing the weary
days between their prayers, theii remembrances of the dear ones at home, and con-
versation on the pleasures of eating ; the last-named topic being ever [iresent to
them, likewise, in their dreams. All the African travellers, wayworn, solitary
and sad, submit themselves again to drunken, murderous, man-seiling despots, of
the lowest order of humanity ; and Mungo Park, fainting under a tree and suc-
coured by a woman, gi-atefully remembers how his Good Samaritan has always
come to him in woman's shape, the wide world over.

A shadow on the wall in which my mind's eye can discern some traces of a rocky
.sea-coast, recalls to me a fearful story of travel derived from that unpromising
narrator of such stories, a parliamentary blue-book. A convict is its chief figure,
r.nd this man escapes with other pris ners from a penal settlement. It is an island,
r.nd they seize a beat, and gf,t to the main land. Their way is by a rugged and
precipitous sea-shore, and they have no earthly hope of ultimate escape, for the
party of soldiers despatched by an easier course to cut them off, must inevitably
arrive at their distant bourne long before them, and retake them if by any hazard
ihey survive the horrors of the way. Famine, as they all must have foreseen,
besets them early in their course. Some of the party die and are eaten ; some are
murdered by the rest and eaten. This one awful creature eats his fill, and sustains
his strength, and lives on to be recaptured and taken back. The unrelateable
experiences through which he has passed have been so tremendous, that he is not

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hanged as he might be, but goes back to his old chained-gang work. A little tinic,
and he tempts one other prisoner away, seizes another boat, and flies once more —
necessarily in the old hopeless direction, for he can take no other. I le is soon cut off,
and met by the pursuing party face to face, upon the beach. He is alone. In hi>
former journey he acquired an ina])peasable relish for his dreadful food. lie urged
the new man away, expressly to kill him and eat him. In the pockets on one side
of his coarse convict-dress, are portions of the man's body, on which he is regaling ;
in the pockets on the other side is an untouched store of salted pork (stolen before
he left the island) for which he has no appetite. He is taken back, and he i-.
hanged. IJut I shall never see that sea-beach on the wall or in the fire, without him,
solitary monster, eating as he prowls along, while the sea rages and rises at him.

Captain Bligh (a worse Dan to be entrusted with arbitrary power there could
scarcely be) is h ndcd '^' ^r the side of the Bounty, and turned adrift on the wide
ocean in an open , it, orde-- of Fletcher Ch 'stian, one of his officers, at this very
minute. Anothe. '^,\,'; , my fire, and " Th sday October Christian," five-and-
twenty years of ago, :>n vi the dead and gom /letcher by a savage mother, leaps
aboard His Majesty .. ship "' ^on, hove-to oV Pitcairn's Island ; says his simple
grace before eating, in good iiaglish ; and Knows that a pretty little animal on
board is called a dog, because in his childhood he had heard of such strange
creatures from his father and the other mutineers, grown grey under the shade of
the bread-fruit trees, speaking of their lost country far away.

See the Ilalsewell, East Indiaman outward bound, driving madly on a January
night towards the rocks near Seacombe, on the island of Purbeck ! The captain's
two dear daughters are aboard, and five other ladies. The ship has been driving
many hours, has seven feet water in her hold, and her mainmast has been cut
away. The description of her loss, familiar to me from my early boyhood, seems
to be read aloud a:s she rushes to her destiny.

" About two in the morning of Friday the sixth of January, the ship still driving,
and approaching very fast to the shore, Mr. Henry Meriton, the second mate, went
again into the cuddy, where the captain then was. Another conversation taking
place. Captain Pierce expressed extreme anxiety for the preservation of his beloved
daughters, and earnestly asked the officer if he could devise any method of saving
them. On his answering with great concern, that he feared it would be impossible,
but that their only chance would be to wait for morning, the captain lifted up his
hands in silent and distressful ejaculation.

** At this dreadful moment, the ship struck, with such violence as to dash tlie
heads of those standing in the cuddy against the deck above them, and the shock
was accompanied by a shriek of horror that burst at one instant from every quarter
of the ship.

*' Many of the seamen, who had been remarkably inattentive and remiss in their
duty during great part of the storm, now poured upon deck, where no exertions of
the officers could keep them, while their assistance might have been useful. They
had actually skulked in their hammocks, leaving the working of the pumps and
other necessary labours to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers, who had made
uncommon exertions. Roused by a sense of their danger, the same seamen, at
this moment, in frantic exclamations, demanded of heaven and their fellow-
sufferers that succour which their own efforts, timely made, might possibly have
procured.

"The ship continued to beat on the rocks; and soon bilging, fell with her
broadside towards the shore. \Vhen she struck, a number of the men climbed up
the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of her immediately going to pieces.

'* Mr. Meriton, at this crisis, offered to these unhappy beings the best advics

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T}:e Lost Indiaman

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which could be given ; he rccommenrled that all should come to the side of the ship
lying lowest on the rocks, and singly to take the opportunities which miglit then
utTer, of escaping to the shore.

*' Having thus provitled, to the utmost of his power, for the safety of the
desponding crew, he returned to the round-house, where, by this time, all the
passengers and most of the officers had assembled. The latter were em/' ^yed in
offering consolation to the unfortunate ladies ; and, with unparalleled mi;„n nimity,
suffering their compassion for the fair aad amiable companions of their n, fortunes
to jMcvail over the sense of their own danger.

" In this charitable work of comfort, Mr.' Meriton now joined, by assurances of
his opinion, that the ship would hold together till the morning, when all would be
safe. Captain Pierce, observing one of the young gentlemen loud in his exclama-
tions of terror, and frequently cry that tiie ship was parting, cheerfully bid him be
quiet, remarking that though the ship should go to pieces, he would not, but
would be safe enough.

"It is difficult to convey a correct idea of the scene of this deplorable cata-
strophe, without describing the place where it happened. The Ilaleswell struck on
the rocks at a part of the shore where the cliff )< ^' vast height, and rises almost
perpendicular from its base. But at this part'^ul^ spot, the foot of the cliff is
excavated into a cavern of ten or twelve yard> n c , h, and of breadth equal to
the length of a large ship. The sides of the ru "ei?. arc so nearly upright, as to be
of extremely difficult access; and the bottCx.. s ; rewed %vith sharp and uneven
rocks, which seem, by some convulsion of ll.e e; rh, to have been detached from
its roof.

'* The ship lay with her broadside opposii v, tne mouth of this cavern, with her
whole length stretched almost from side to side of it. liut when she struck, it was
too dark for the unfortunate persons on board to discover the real magnitude of
the danger, and the extreme horror of such a situation

'* In addition to the company already in the round-house, they had admitte<l
three black Avomen and two soldiers' wives ; who, with the husband of one of
them, had been allowed to conie in, though tlie seamen, who had tumultuously
demanded entrance to get the lights, had been opposed and kept out by Mr.
Rogers and Mr. Brimer, the third and fifth mates. The numbers there were,
therefore, now increased to near fifty. Captain Pierce sat on a chair, a cot, or
some other moveable, with a daughter on each side, wliom he alternately pressed
to his affectionate breast. The rest of the melancholy assembly were seated on uie
deck, which was strewed with musical instruments, and tlie wreck of furniture
and other articles.

'* Here also Mr. Meriton, after having cut several wax-candles in pieces, and
ctuck them up in various parts of the round-house, and lighted up all the glass
lanthorns he could find, took his seat, intending to wait the approach of dawn ;
and then assist the partners of his dangers to escape But, observing that the poor
ladies appeared parched and exhausted, he brouglit a basket of oranges and
prevailed on some of them to refresh themselves by sucking a little of the juice.
At this time they were all tolerably composed, except Miss Mansel, who was in
hysteric fits on the floor of the deck of the round-house.

" But on Mr. Meriton's return to the company, he perceived a considerable
alteration in the appearance of the ship ; th? sid s were visibly giving way ; the
deck seemed to be lifting, and he discoveied other strong indications that she
could not hold much longer together. On this account, he attempted to go
forward to look out, but immediately saw that the ship had separated in the
middle, and that the forepa't having changed its position, lay rather further out
towards the sea. In such an emergency, when the next moment might plunge

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liirn into eternity, he determined to seize the present opportunity, and follow the cx-
nmple t)f the crew and the soldiers, who were now quilting the ship in numbers, and
making their way to the shore, thougli (juitc ignorant of its nature and description.

*' Among other expedients, the ensign-slaff had been unshipped, and attempted
to be laid between tiic ship's side and sojne Sf the rocks, but without success, for it
snapped asunder bef'/re it reached thim However, by the light of a lanthorn,
which a seaman hainled through the skjTBght of the round-house to the deck, Mr.
Meritou discovered a spar which appeared to be laid from the ship's side to the
rocks, and on lliis spar he resolvc<l to attempt his escape.

"Accordingly, lying down upon it, he thrust himself forward ; however, he soon
found that it had no communication with the rock ; he reached the end of it, and
then slipped off, receiving a very violent bruise in his fall, and before he could
recover his legs, he was washed off by the surge. He now supported himself by
vwimming, until a returning wave dashed him against the back part of the cavern.
Here he laid hold of a small projection in the rock, but was so,much benumbed
that he was on the point of quitting it, when a seaman, who had already gained a
footing, extended his hand, and assisted him until lie could secure himselra little
on the rock ; from which he clambered on a shelf still higher, and out of the reach
of the surf.

" Mr. Rogers, the third mate, remained with the captain and the unfortunate
ladies and their companions nearly twenty minutes after Mr. Meriton had quitted
the ship. Soon after the latter left the round-house, the captain asked what was
become of him, to which Mr. Rogers replied, that he was gone on deck to see
what could be done. After this, a heavy sea breaking over the ship, the h. I'es
exclaimed, * Oh poor Meriton ! he is drowned ; had lie stayed with us he would
have been safe ! ' and they all, particularly Miss ^lary ^'ierce, expressed great
concern at the apprehension of his loss.

" The sea was. now breaking in at the fore part of the ship, and reached as far
as the mainmast. Captain Pierce gave Mr. Rogers a nod, and they took a lamp
and went together into the stern-gallery, where, after viewing the rocks for some
time. Captain Pierce asked Mr. Rogers if he thought there was any possibility of
saving the girls ; to which he replied, he feared there was none ; for they could
only discover the black face of the perpendicular rock, and not the cavern which
afforded shelter to thos^.who escaped. They then returned to the round-house,
where Mr. Rogers hung ujji the lamp, and Captain Pierce sat down between his
two daughters. ,f .^ '*

'* The sea continuing to brcA^ in very fast, Mr. Macmanus, a midshipman, and
Mr. Schutz, a passenger, asked Mr. Rogers what they could do to escape.
* Follow me,' he replied, and they all went into the stern-gallery, and from thence
to the upper-quarter-gallery on the poop. While there, a very heavy sea fell on
board, and the round-house gave way ; Mr. Rogers heard the ladies shriek at
intervals, as if the water reached them ; the noise of the sea at other times
drowning their voices.

" Mr. Brimer had followed him to the poop, where they remained together
about five mimites, when on the breaking of this heavy sea, they jointly seized a
iien-coop. The same wave which proved fatal to some of those below, carried him
and his companion to the rock, on which they were violently dashed and miserably
biiiised.

* ' Here on the rock were twenty-seven men ; but it now being low water, and
as they were convinced that on the flowing of the tide all must be washed off,
many attempted to get to the back or the sides of the cavern, beyond the reach of
the returning sea. iScarcely more than six, besides Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer,
succeeded, ' •

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" Mr. Rogers, on paining this station, was so nearly exhausted, that bad his
exertions been protracted only a few minute^ 'onger, he must have sunk under
tliem, He was now preventt-d from joiniMg Mr. Mcriton, by at least twenty
men between them, none of whom could move, without the imminent peril of his
life.

"They fouml that a very considerable number of the crew, seamen and soldiers,
nnd some petty officers, were in the same situation as themselves, though many
who had readied the rocks below, i)erislied in attempting to ascend. They could
yet discern some part of the ship, anil in their dreary station solaced themselves
with the hopes of its remaining entire until day-break ; for, in the midst of their
own distress, the sufferings of the females on board affected them with the most
poignant anguish ; and every sea that broke inspired them with terror for their
safety.

" But, alas, their apprehensions were too soon realised ! Within a very few
minutes of the time that Mr. Rogers gained the rock, an universal shriek, which
long vibrated in their ears, in which the voice of female distress was lamentably
distinguished, announced the dreadful catastrophe. In a few moments all was
hushed, except the roaring of the winds and the dashing of the waves ; the
wreck was buried in the deep, and not an atom of it was ever afterwards seen."

The most beautiful and affecting incident I know, associated with a shipwreck,
succeeds this dismal story for a winter night. The Clrosvenor, East Indiaman,
homeward bound, goes ashore on the coast of Caffraria. It is resolved that the
oftkers, passengers, and crew, in number one hundred and thirty-five souls, shall
endeavour to penetrate on foot, acrosi; trackless deserts, infested by wild beasts
and cniel savages, to the Dutch settlements at the Cape of Good Hope. With
this forlorn object before them, they llnally separate into two parties— never
more to meet on earth.

There is a solitary child among the passengers— a little boy of seven years old
who has no relat'Cii there ; and when the first party is moving away he cries
after some member of it who has been kind to him. The crying of a child
might be supposed to be a little thing to men in such great extremity ; but it
touches them, and he is immediately taken into that detachmeni.

From which time forth, this child is sublimely mad^ a sacred charge. He is
pushed, on a littl*^ raft, across broad rivers by the,"!?d|jiTiming sailors ; they carry
him by turns through the deep sand and long grSs^(hc patiently walking at all
other times) ; they share M'ith him such putrid fi^^s they find to eat ; they lie
down and wait for him when the rough caq'iefltgr, who becomes his especial
friend, lags behind. Beset by lions and tigc:,, by savages, by thirst, by hunger,
by death in a crowd of ghastly shapes, they never — O Father of all mankind,
thy name be blessed for it ! — forget this child. The captain stops exhausted, and
his faithful coxswain goes back and is seen to sit down by his side, and neither of
the two shall be any more beheld until the great last day ; but, as the rest go on
for their lives, taey take the child with them. The carpenter dies of poisonous
berries eaten in starvation ; and the steward, succeeding to the command of the
party, succeeds to the sacred guardiansliip of the child.

God knows all he does for the poor baby ; how he cheerfully carries him in his
arms when he himself is weak and ill ; how he feeds him when lie himself is griped
with want ; how he folds his ragged jacket round him, lays his little worn face with a
woman's tenderness upon his sunburnt breast, soothes him in his Mifferings, sings
to him as he limps along, unmindful of his own parched and bleeding leet. Divided
for a few days from the rest, they dig a grave in the sand and buiy their good friend
the cooper — these two companions alone in the wilderness — and then the time

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comes when they both nrc ill, and bcj^ their wretclicd partners in despair, reduced
and few in tnnid)cr now, to wait by them one day. 'Ihey wait by them one day,
they wait by Ihein two days. On the morning of the third, they move vei-v softly
about, in makitij^f their ])reparations for the resumj)lion of their journey ; for, the
chihl is sU'cpin}^ l)y the fire, and it is a^^rced with one consent that lie shall not bt
disturlwd until the last moment. The moment comes, the fire is dying — and tin-
child is <lead.

His faithful frien<l, the steward, lingers but a liltlo while behind him. His grief
is great, he staggers on for a few days, lies (U)vvn in the desert, and dies. But he
shall be re-united in his immortal spirit— who can doul)l it ! — with the child, where
he and the poor carpenter shall be raised up with the words, " Inasmuch as yc
have done it unto the least of these, ye have <lone it unto Me."

As I recall the dispersal and disappearance of nearly all the participators in llii-,
once famous shipwreck (a meie handful being recovered at last), and the legend .
that were h)ng afterwards revived from time to time among the English ofTicers at
the Cape, of a white woman with an infant, said to have b.'cn seen weeping outside
a savage hut far in the interior, who was whisperingly associated with the remem-
brance of the missing ladies saved from the wrecked vessel, and who was often
sought but never found, thoughts of anoth(.'r kind of travel came into my mind.

'I'houghts of a voyager unexpectedly sunniioned from home, who travelled n
vast distance, and could never return. Thoughts of this unha[)py wayfarer in the
depths of his sorrow, in the bitterness of his anguish, in the helplessness of his
self-reproach, in the desperation of his desire to set right what lie had left wrong,
and do what he had left undone.

P'or, there were many many things he had neglected. Little matters while he
was at hemic and surrounded by them, but things of mighty moment when he was
at an immeasurable distance. There were many many blessings that he had
inadequately felt, there were many trivial injuries that he had not forgiven,
there was love that he liad but jioorly returned, there was friendship that he had
too lightly j^rized : there were a million kind words that he might have spoken, a
million kind looks that he miglit have given, uncountalile slight easy deeds in
which he might have been most truly great and good. O for a day (he would
exclaim), for but one day to make amends ! Uut the sun never shone upon that
happy day, and out of his remote captivity he never came.

Why does this traveller's fate obscure, on New Year's Eve, the other histories
of travellers with which my mind was filled Init now, and cast a solemn shadow
over me ! Must I one day.jnake his journey ? Even so. Who shall say, that
I may not then be tortured by such late regrets : that I may not then look from
my exile on my emjity place and undone work ? I stand ui)on a sea shore, where
the waves are years. They break and fall, and I may little heed them ; but,
with every wave the sea is rising, and I know that it will float me on this traveller' t*
voyage at last.

.-■•■i •

-*

He is Seven-and-Sixpence Short of Independence.

M9

THE BEGGING-I ETTKR WRITER.

TlTE amount of money lie annually diverts fmm wholesome and useful purposes
in the United Kingdom, would be a set-off against the Window Tax. He is one
i;f the most shameless frauds and impositions of this time. In his idleness, his
mendacity, and the immeasurable harm he does to the deserving, — dirtying the
stream of true benevolence, and nuuldling the brains of foolish justices, with
inability to distinguish between the base coin of distress, and the true currency we
have aiways among us, — he is more worthy of Norfolk I.>>land than three-fourths of
the worst characters who are sent there. Under any rational system, he would
lave been sent there long ago.

I, the writer of this paper, have been, for some time, a chosen receiver of
I legging Letters. For fourteen years, my house has been made as regular a
Receiving I louse for such communications as any one of the great branch Post-Offices
is for general correspondence. I ought to know something of the IJcgging-Letter
Writer. He has besieged my door at all hours of the day and night ; he has
fought my servant ; lie has lain in ambush for me, going out and coming in ; he
has followed mc out of town into the country ; he has aj^pcared at provincial
hotels, where I have been staying for only a few hours ; he has written to me from
immense distances, when I have been out of England. He has fjillen sick ; he
has died and been Imu ied ; he has come to life again, and again departed from this
transitory scene : he has been his own son, his own mother, his own baby, his idiot
brother, his uncle, his aunt, his aged grandfather. He has wanted a greatcoat, to
go to India in ; a pound to set him up in life for ever ; a pair of boots to take him
to the coast of China ; a hat to get him into a permanent situation under Govern-
ment. He has frequently been exactly seven-and-sixpence short of indepen-
dence. He has had such openings at Liverpool — posts of great trust and confidence
in merchants' houses, which nothing but seven-and-sixpence was wanting to him to
secure— that I wonder he is not Mayor of that flourishing town at the present
moment.

The natural phenomena of which he has been the victim, are of a most
astounding nature. lie has had two children who have never grown up ; who
liave never had anything to cover them at night ; who have been continually
driving liim mad, by asking in vain for food ; who have never come out of fevers
and I. leasles (which, I suppose, has accounted for his fuming his letters with tobacco
smoke, as a disinfectant) ; who have never changed in the least degree through
fourteen long revolving years. As to his wife, what that suffering woman has
undergone, nobody knows. She has always been in an interc-iting situation through
the same long period, and has never been confined yet Hi-, devotion to her has
been imceasing. He has never cared for himself; /V<? could have perished — he
would rather, in short — but was it not his Christian duty as a mar, a husband,
and a father, to write begging letters when he looked at her? (il-^ has usually
remarked that he would call in the evening for an ansv/er to this quosiion.)

He has been the sport of the strangest misfortuner^. What his brother has done
to him would have broken anybody else's heart. His brother went into business
with him, and ran away with the money ; his brother got him to be security for an

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T/it' De<^dn':!;-Lcttcr Writer.

immense sum and left liim to pay it ; his brollier would have given him employ-
ment to the tunc of hundreds a-year, if he would have consented to write letters on
a Sunday ; his brother cK.mciatcd principles incompatible with his religious views,
and he could not (in consequence) perniif his brother to provide for him. Hi-;
landlord has never shown a spark of human feeling. When he put in that execution
I don't know, but he has nev«r taken it out. The broker's man has grown grey
in possession. They will liave to bury him some day.

He has been attached to every conceivable pursuit. He has been in tlic army,
in the navy, in the church, in the law ; connected with the press, the fine arts,
public institutions, every description and grade of business. He has been brouglit
up as a gentleman ; he has been at every college in r)xford and Cambridge ; he can
quote Latin in his letters (but generally mis-spells some minor English word) ; he
can tell you what Shakespeare says about begging, better than you know it. It is
to be observed, that in the midst of his afflictions he always reads the newspapers ;
and rounds off ])is appeal with some allusion, that may be supposed to be in my
way, to the popular subject of the hour.

His life presents a series of inconsistencies. Sometimes he has never written
such a letter before. He blushes with shame. That is the first time ; that shall
l)e the last. Don't answer it, and let it be understood that, then, he will kill
himself quietly. Sometimes (and more frequently) he has written a few such letters.
Then he encloses the answers, with an intimation that they arc of inestimable value
to him, and a request that they may be carefully returned. He is fond of enclosing
something — verses, letters, pawnl^rokers' duplicates, anything to necessitate an
answer. He is very severe upon " the pampered niinion of fortune," who refused
him the half-sovereign referred to in the enclosure number two — but he knows me
better.

He writes in a variety of styles ; sometimes in low spirits ; sometimes quite
jocosely. When he is in low spirits he writes down-hill and repeats words —these
little indications being expressive of the perturbation of his mind. When he ii
more vivacious, he is frank ^'-ith me ; he is quite the agreeable rattle. I know what
human nature is, — who better? \Vell ! He had a little money once, and he ra'.i
tlirough it — as many men have done before him. He finds his old friends turn
away from him now — many men have done that before him too ! Shall he toll
me why he writes to me ? Because he has no kind of claim upon mc. He puts
it on that ground plainly ; and begs to ask for the loan (as 1 know human nature)
of two sovereigns, to be repaid next Tuesday six weeks, i)efore twelve at noon.

Sometimes, when he is sure that I have found him out, and that there is no
chance of money, he writes to inform me that I have got rid of him at last. He
has enlisted into the Company's service, and is off directly — but he wants a cheese.
He is informed by the Serjeant that it is essential to his prospects in the regiment
that he should take out a single Gloucester cheese, weighing from twelve to fifteen
pounds. Eight or nine shillings would buy it. He does not ask for money, after
wliat has passed ; but if he calls at nine to-morrow morning may he hope to* find a
cheese? And is there anything he can do to show his gratitude in Bengal?

Once he wrote me rather a special letter, proposing relief in kind. He had got
into a little trouble by leaving parcels of mud done up in brown paper, at people's
houses, on pretence of being a Railway-Porter, in which character he received
carriage money. This sportive fimcy he expiate.1 in the House of Correction.
Not long after his release, and on a Sunday rrorning, he called with a letter
(having first dusted himself all over), in which he gave me to understand that,
being resolved to earn an honest livelihood, he had been travelling about the
country with a cart of crockery. That he had been doing pretty well until the day
before, when his horse had dropped down dead near Chatham, in Kent. That this

N

Ml in tlic army,
, the fine art>.

10 newspapers

He enchants a Magistrate.

i6i

had reduced him to the unpleasant necessity of getting into the shafts himself, and
drawing the cart of crockery to London — a somewhat exhausting pull of thirty
miles. That he did not venture to ask again for money ; but that if I would
have the goodness to leave hi/n out a ihudxy, he would call for the animal before
breakfast !

At another tinie my friend (I am describing actual experiences) introduced
iiimself as a literary gentleman in the last extremity of distress. lie had had a
play accepted at a certain Theatre — which was really open ; its rcpresentalion was
delayed by the indisposition of a leading acfOr — who was really ill ; and he and his
were in a state of absolute starvation. If he made his necessities known to the
Manager of the Theatre, ho put it to me to say wliat kind of treatment he might
expect ? Well ! we got over that difficulty to our mutual satisfaction. A little
while afterwards he was in some other strait. I think Mrs. Soulhcote, his wife,
was in extremity — and we adjusted that point too. A little while afterwar.'' he
had taken a new house, and was going headlong to ruin for want of a wat' .Ut.
I had my misgivings about the water-butt, and did not reply to that epistle. iJut a
little while afterwards, I had reason to feel penitent for my neglect. lie wrote mc
a few broken-hearted lines, informing mc that the dear partner of his sorrows died
in his arms last night at nine o'clock !

I despatched a trusty messenger to comfort tine bereaved mourner and his poor
children ; but the messenger went so soon, that the play was not ready to be played
out ; my friend was not at home, and his wife ^\as in a most delightful state
of health. He was taken up by the INIendicity Society (informally it aftei-wards
appeared), and I presented myself at a London Police-office with my testimony
against him. The Magistrate was wonderfully struck by his educational acquire-
ments, deeply impressed by the excellence of his letters, exceedingly sorry to see a
man of his attainments there, complimented him highly on his powers of compo-
sition, and was quite charmed to have the agreeable duty of discharging him. A
collection was made for the " poor fellow," as he was called in the reports, and I
left the court with a comfortable sense of being universally regarded as a sort of
monster. Next day comes to me a friend of mine, the governor of a large prison.
"Why did you ever go to the Police-Office against that man," says he, "without
coming to me first? I know all about him and his frauds. He lodged in the
house of one of my warders, at the very time when he first wrote to you ; and
then he was eating spring-lamb at cighteen-pencc a pouiKl, and early asparagus at
I don't know how much a bundle !" On that very same day, and in that very same
hour, my injured gentleman wrote a solemn address to me, demanding to know
what compensation I proposed to make him for his having passed the rfight in a
''loathsome dungeon." And next morning an Irish gentleman, a member of the
same fraternity, who had read the case, and was very well persuaded I should be
chary of going to that Police-Office again, positively refused to leave my door for
less than a sovereign, and resolved to besiege me into compliance, literally "sat
down " before it for ten mortal hours. The garrison being well provisioned, I
remained within the walls ; xnd he raised tht siege at midnight with a prodigious
alarum on the belh

The Begging- Letter Writer often has an extensive circle of acquaintance. Whole
l\iges of the "Court Guide" are ready to be references for him. Noblemen
and gentlemen write to say there never was such a man for probity and virtue.
They ha\e laiown him time out of mind, and there is nothing they wouldn't do for
him. Somehow, they don't give him that one pound ten he stands m need of;
but perhaps it is not enough — they want to do more, and his modesty will not
allow ii. It is to be remarked of his trade that it is a very fascinating one. He
never leave? it ; and those who are near to him become smitten v '.th a love of

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it, too, and sooner or la'.er set np for themselves. lie employs a messenger — man,
woman, or child. That messenger is certain ultimately to become an independent
Begging-Letter Writf, His sons and daughters succeed to his calling, and write
begging-letters when he is no more. He throws off the infection of begging-letter
writing, like the contagion of disease. What .Sydney Smitli so happily called
" the dangerous luxury of dishonesty" is more tempting, and more catching, it
would seem, in this instance than in any other.

He always belongs to a Corresponding- Society of Begging-Letter Writers. Any
one who will, may ascertain this fact. Give money to- day in recognition of a
begging-letter, — no matter how unlike a common begging-letter,— and for the next
fortnight you will have a rush of such communications. S':eadily refuse to give ;
and the begging-letters becom ^ Angels' visits, imtil the Society is from some cause
or other in a dull way of business, and may as well try you as anybody else. It is
of little use incuiring into the Begging-Letter Writc^r's circumstances. He may be
sometimes accidentally fuund out, as in the case already mentioned (though that
was not the first inquiry made) ; but apparent misery is always a part of his trade,
and real misery very often is, in the intervals of spring-lamb and early asparagus.
It is naturally an incident of his dissipated and dishonest life.

That the calling is a successful one, and that large sums of money are gained by
it, must be evident to anybody who reads the Police Reports of such cases. But,
prosecutions arc of rare occurrence, relatively to the extent to which the trade is
carried on. The cause of this is to be found (as no one knows better than the
Begging-Letter Writer, for it is a part of his speculation) in the aversion people
I'cel to exhibit themselves as having been iniposed upon, or as having weakly
gratified their consciences with a lazy, flimsy substitute for the noblest of all virtues.
There is a man at large, at the moment when this paper is preparing for the press
(on the 29th of April, 1850), and never once taken i\p yet, who, within these
twelvemonths, has been probably the most audacious and the most successful
swindler that even this trade has ever known. There has been something singu-
larly base in this fellow's proceedings ; it has been his business to write to all
sorts and conditions of people, in the names of persons of high reputation and
unblemished honour, professing to be in distress — the general admiration and
respect for whom has ensured a ready and generous reply.

^ Now, in the hope that the results of the real experience of a real person may do
someihing more to induce reflection on this subject than any abstract treatise— and
with a personal knowledge of the extent to which the Begging-Letter Trade has
been carried on for some time, and has been for some time constantly increasing —
the writer of this i)aper entreats the attention of his readers to a few concluding
words. His experience is a type of the experience of many ; some on a smaller,
some on an infinitely larger scale. All may judge of the soundness or inisoundness
of his conclusions from it.

Long doubtful of the efficacy of such assistance in any case whatever, and able
to fecall but one, within his ^^•hole individual knowledge, in which he had the
least after-reason to suppose that any good was done by it, he was led, last
autumn, into some serious considerations. The begging-letters flying about by
every post, made it perfectly manifest that a set of lazy vagabonds were interposed
between the general desire to do something to relieve the sickness and misery
under which the pocv wpyc suffering, and the suffering poor themselves. That
many who sought to do some lit'lc to repair the social wrongs, inflicted in the way
of preventible sickness and death upnn the poor, were strengthening those wrongs,
liowever innocently, by wasting rr.oncy on pestilent knaves cumbering society.
That imagination, — soberly follov/ing one of these knaves into his life of punish-
ment in jail, and comparing it with the life of one of these poor in a v;holera-

He is a mere Robber,

163

^ricken alley, or one of the children of one of these poor, soothed in its dying
liour by the late lamented Mr. Drouet, — contemplated a grim farce, impossible to be
' -csented very much longer before God or man. That the crowning miracle of all
i ic miracles smnmed up in the New Testament, after the miracle of the blind
-jeing, and the lame walking, and the restoration of the dead to life, was the
1 liracle that the poor had the Gospel preached to them. That while the poor
\ ere unnaturally and imnecessarily cut off by the thousand, in the prematurity oi
;heir age, or in the rottenness of their youth — for of flower or blossom such youth
I;as none — the Gospel was not preached to them, saving in hollow and unmean-
; ig voices. That of all wrongs, this was the first mighty wrong the Pestilence
V arned us to set right. And that no Post-Office Order to any amount, given to
;i Begging-Letter Writer for the quieting of an uneasy breast, would be presentable
. n the Last Great Day as anything towards it.

The poor never write these letters. Nothing could be more unlike their habits.
The writers are public robbers ; and we who support them are parties to their
(■•predations. They trade upon every circumstance within their knowledge that
r.iTects us, public or private', joyful or son-owful ; they pervert the lessons of our lives ;
t'ley change what ought to be our strength and virtue into weakness, and encou-
! agement of vice. There is a plain remedy, and it is in our own hands. We must
i .solve, at any sacrifice of feeling, to be deaf to such appeals, and crush the trade.

There are degrees in murder. Life must be held sacred among us in more ways
t'lan one — sacred, not merely from the murderous weapon, or the subtle poison, or
t!ie cruel blow, but sacred from preventible diseases, distortions, and pains. That
i^ the first greaL end we have to set against this miserable imposition. Physical
life respected, moral life romes next. What will not content a Begging-Letter
Writer for a week, would educate a score of children for a year. Let us give all
we can ; let us give more than ever. Let us do all we can ; let us do more than
c ver. But let us give, and do, with a high purpose ; not to endow the scum of
the earth, to its own greater corruption, with the offals of our duty.

A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR.

There was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought of a
number of things. lie had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant com-
panion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered at the beauty
of the flowers , they wondered at the height and blueness of the sky ; they won-
dered at the depth of the bright water , they wondered at the goodness and the
power of God wI 0 made the lovely world.

They used to say to one another, sometimes, Supposing all the children upoi^
earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky be sorry ? They
]»elieved they woulci be sorry. P'or, said they, the buds are the children of the
ilowers, and the little playful streams that gambol down the hill-sides are the chil-
dren of the water ; and the smallest bright specks playing at hide and seek in the
sky all night, must surely be the children of the stars ; and they would all be
: rieved to see their playmates, the children of men, no more.

There was one clear shining star that used to come out in tlie sky before the
rest, near the church spire, above the graves. It was larger and beautiful, they
thought, than all the others, and ever>' night they watched lor it, standing hand in

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164

A Child's Dnuim of a Star

hand at a window. Whoever saw it first cried out, ** I see tlic star !" And ofton
tiioy cried out both to^elhor, knowing; so well when it would rise, and where. .So
they grew tt) lie such friends with it, that, before lyinj; down in their beds, they
.'dways looked out once af;ain, to bid it _i;ood nigiit ; and when th.ey were turnimj
round to sleep, they used to say, " CJod bless the star !"

Hut while she was still very young, oh very very young, the sister drooped, and
came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in I lie window at ni^dil ; and
then the child looked sadly out by himself, and when he saw the star turned rouml
and said to the patient pale face on the beil, '* I see the star !" and then a smile
would come upon the face, and a little weak voice used to say, "CJod bless my
brother and the star !"

And so the time came all too soon ! when the child looked out ahme, and when
there was no face on the bed ; and when there was a little grave among the graves,
not there before ; and when the star made long rays down towards him, as he saw-
it through his tears.

Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make sucli a shining way
from earth, to Heaven, that when the child went to his solitaw bed, he drear.u [
about the star ; a^ul dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train of people
taken up that sjiavkling road by angels. And the star, ojiening, showed him a
great world of light, where many more sucli angels waited to receive thcni.

All these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming ey^s upon the people
who were canied up into the star; and some came out fmui the long rows in
which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and k' sed irem tenderly, and
went away with them down avenues of h'ght, za\A wen^ io Ii:'P(<y in their com-
pany, that lying in his bed he wept for joy.

lint, there were many angels who diil not go with then-, -vul among them one
he knew. The patient Hice that once had lain upon ilu
radiant, but his lieart found out his sister among all the ho.-t.

His sister's angel lingered near the enl ranee of \.m. slar,
among those who had brought the people thither -

" Is my brotlier come?"

And he said " No."

She was turning hopefully av/ny, v.hc. the child streich.ed out his amis, and
cried, " O, sister, I am Ik e ! Take me . ' and then she tuvned her beaming eyes
upon him, and it was night ; and tiie otar was shining into the room, making long
ravs down towards him as he s.iw it through his tears.

From that hour forth, the child looked out upon the star as on the home he was
to go to, when his time should come ; and he thought that he did not belong to
tlie earth alone, but to the star too, because of his sister's angel gone before.

There was a baby born to be a brother to the child ; and while he was so little
that he never yet hail spoken word, he stretched his tiny form out on his bed, and
died.

Again the child dreamed of the open star, and of the company of angels, and
the train of people, and the rows of angels with their beaming eyes all turned upon
those people's faces.

Said his sister's angel to the leader:

•■ Isru brother come ? "

And he said " Not that one, but another."

t\\> ihe child beheld h^i brother's arj2l in her arm?, he cried, " O, sister, I am
here'. Tak me!" And she turned and .saiiled upon him, and the star was
shinnig.

TTe grew to be a voung man, and was busy at his books when an old servant
c^ac lo Irm cjp.d said :

' ,xl was glorified and
Uv.. said to the leader

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** Tliy mother is no nioie. ^ brini; licr l>lcssin<j on her dailinf^ son ! "

Ai;ain at niijlit lie saw tlic star, and all that former company. Said his sister's
niii;el to the leader :

" Is my brother come ? "

And he said, '* 'i'hy mollier ! "

A mighty cry of joy ivent forth throuf^h all the star, because the mother was
ro-united to her two children. And he stretched out his arms and cried, " < ),
?)H»ther, sister, and brother, 1 am here! Take me ! " And they answered him,
" Not yet," and the star was shinini;.

He i^rcw to he a man, whose hair was turning j^rey, and he was sitting in his
cliair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed with tears, when
the star opened once again.

Said his sister's angel to the leader : *' Is my l)rother come? "

And he said, " Nay, but his maiden daughter."

.'\nd the man who had lieen the chiM saw his daughter, newly lo'^t to him, a
celestial creature an.ong those three, and he said, " My daughter's head is on my
sister's bosom, and her arm is around my mother's neck, and at her feet there is
the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting from her, CJoD be praised ! "

And the star was shining. f

Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was wrinkled,
niid his sleps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And one night as he
lay upon his bed, his children standing vnund, he cried, as he had cried s.) long
ago :

" I see the star ! "

They whispered one another, " He is dying."

And he said, " I am. My age is falhng from me like o, garment, and T move
towards the star as a child. And (), my Father, now I ihar.k thee ti:at it has so
often opened, to receive those dear ones who await me ! "

And the star was shining ; and it shines upon his grave.

^/» *, vvv Vf \j\/\f\jyj\i*r\r\r>r\-\'^ \r\^'^f\j\r\f>t'\r\r\ryr^r\j^'

OUR ENGLISH WATERING-PLACE.

In the Autumn-time of the yer r, when the ; it metropolis is so much hotter,
so much noisier, so much more dusty or so muc • more water-carted, so rnuch more
crowded, so rnuch more disturbing and distrac ; in all respects, than it usually is,
I quiet sea-beach becomes indeed a blessed .xjt. Half awake and half asleep^
this idle morning in our sunny window on i- edge of a chalk-cliff in the old-
fashioned waterng-place to which we are a : .iiiful lesorter, we leel a lazy inclina-
tion to sketch its picture.

The place seems to res]xjnd. Sky, sea, beach, and village, lie as still before us
as if they were sitting for the picture. I* i> dead low-water. A ripple plays
anioiig the ripening corn upon the cliff, as if it were faintly trying from recollection
to imitate the sea; and the world of butterflies hovering over the crop of radish-
seed are as restless in their little way as the gulls are in their larger manner when
the wind blows. But the ocean lies winking in I'le sunlight like a drowsy lion — its
glassy waters scarcely curve upon the shore — tlie fishing-boats in the tiny harbour
are all stranded in the mud — our two colliers (our watering-place has a maritime
.rade employing that amount of shipping) have not an inch of water within a

te#»'SH<<(!MH-.,iM|^i.,

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1 66

Our En^itsh ll'a/irtft^ IVtUY,

\\\y.n\vy of ft «>ilo of tlu \i\, nwA (\un, oxluinskMl, on tlioh siilos, liKo fniitl (ish nf ;ni

of povi", :uv1 ^^^l^'* :in<l » onr\i'<(Ml lin^luM ill liMh IS M)^nii\'.( llic wmvc^, lie stli'wn
rthowt, in ;\ hnnvn lii1< v of t;inj;lr(l srn wcvA awA \.\\\v\\ t liH \vl\it Ii iiioU« ns if ;i
f,\u\iU i>l fM;)nl'. ]\:\A 1>( rn MinVini; << :' hvw for !i^;i'><, mul l\!\il nltsoivod nil unliil\
vusiotu ol iln(>\\in^ thoii t»>n Irnvi^"^ on (ho shovo.

li^ {\\\\h, ouv \\;\l«Mi(i):; |>lrtrc ilsclf bns l>rrn KO sotnowlinl liij;li nn<l diy liy ih •
titU' of vcrtrs, I'onvVinod ns wx^ ntv f\n its honmn. wo nni-^l H'hii tnnlly it(|n\il tli;ii
\]w liino whew thi>^ pr.Mv lidlo ";o\ni »iii\i1;\» sweep nl Iiimim^ lum-iin^ oM nl lli,-
on«l of (]io w«>o»len ]>iiM inlo a \yo\\\\ in ll»o sen. \\i\s -a ^ny pliiic, inul wlini lli,-
Ui;htliou%c owvlooUini^ it shoi\(' .it »l,\\lM(\\k on i omp.niv 'li'-iptMsin^ lioni piilili,
ImIIs, is bn( ilin^lv <i;iili(i>>n:\l \io\\ rhriiM< ;i Mi'iK t'nnn>l>»M in »«ni \\ uliiini;
pl.iio xvhiih is vol c;>liOil thr .\ss,>n\My " Koonis," awA wiuUmsIooiI to It .'waihMi
on liiix? for halls ov von*vv(s ; ;\n»l. sonio fow seasons since, nn nneirnt lilllo j^t'iill.
n>A\\ C:\nio <1o\\n -awA stnvovl •a\ [he holrl, who s,\i(1 (h;i( ho hn«l duniod Ihoio, m
ln-|jx>\u'' i\^os, with iho llv>nov;iMo Mis> Voopv, woU Known (o hnvo i)oon Iho Ilori\ii\
of luM drtv rtnd tho oun^l oooiisjon o\' inn\iniori\Mo «lnols, Ihil ho w;\s so oM ,111 I
s1\vivoll*<l, AwA s,> \(^vv vho\ini;i(iv' in iho 1o;;n. (hiU il iloinatnloil nioio inia^innliou
\]\A\\ oui walonn^; ]>l;\oo ran \i''ni\ll\ nnr<lor. lo bolicvo him; thoioloio, oMcpl (I\.
M;^stov o{ tho " lMV>ins" (who to (his hvun woais loic-o hvoorhos, inul w Iio mmi
lirmcil tho statcniciU wnlitoais in his cxts), noluuly did hi^liovo in (ho li((Io l;\in
old (^cntlon\at\, ov ovon in tho llonoiaMo Mi-s IVopv, I011}; doxwsod.

As t-.^ subsvvirtivin balls in tho AssoniMy Rooms ol oui waloiin-j plaoi' ni>w lO'!
hot oannvM\ bal.s avo loss inipn^haolo. Svnnotinio^. a (nis};\iidod wandoioi- (»l ,1
Vor,t»ilo.]\iist, or an Infant riionomonvMU or a jnf^;;loi. or soniohody wilh an (>rroiv
ihat i;. sovoval stai"s hohind iho tinu\ takes tho plavo (or a nij;h(. und issni^s hill ,
\>iiK the name of his l;\s( town Hnod o\\\. awA tho name ol oius i{;noniinionsly
writion in, InU vo\i may W suiv this \'e\Tr happens twivo to (ho same nnlortinialo
jx*-;>or,. On sue!) vvoasions the disooUnnod old Ihlliaid raMo(ha( is seldom playoil
rtt (unless tl.e gluNst vM tho HonovaMe Miss Toopy pla\s at pool with other j;hos( .)
is pusi.cd intv> a OMnov, and honvhos are S(>lonnm oons(i(ntod into lVi>n( soa(s, hai K
seats, and losevxeil sea(s — whioh are nuioh the same aOer yon iiav«- paid and .1
fo\v d\dl eandh-s aix'" li!;h;vNl wind permittim:; and (ho )HM(o\nuM and (ho svaiih
roivlionee ]''l.\v out a shor( match whuh shall maUi' ihe vUher mos( low-spiri(ed
which is usuaIIv a drawn j;anK\ At\ov (ha(. tho performer in:-:tatJtly disparts will)
maledieiorv e\]Mvssions, and is r.evoj heard of moio.

But tlic most. wonderful toat'inv v>f ^nn- Assembly Rooms, i^, (hat an anntial -.iK'
of ** F.inoy and other Cluna," is announood here with mysterious eons(aney anil
IVi'severanee. Where the china comes from, where it j;oes to, why it is annual 1)
put up to auction when nc-bovly ever thinks o\' bidding; for it, how it ootnos to p;i ,
thai il is always the ^ame china, whether it would not have boon cheaper, w i(h (ii>
sea at hand, to have thrown it away, say in ci!;h(een Innulred and thirty, arc stand
ing, oui4;nws. Kvery yeai the bills come oiit. evety year the Master of the Koonl^
i^ets into a little pulpit on a table, and v>li"ors it tor sale, every ytwr nobody buys ii.
evcrv year it is put away somewhere till next year, when il appears ai;;\in as if t!.-
whole thinj; were a new idea. \Ve have a taint remembrance of an unearthly eol
kvtion of clocks, pnrpoilini; to Iv tl>e work of Tarisian and Genevoso artists-
chjoP.y bilioiis faced clocks, supjvrtOvi vui si^Kly white crutches, with their pendu
lums dangling like lame lopt — to which a similar course of events cKXurrcd K'l
s<>veral years, until they setMiH\l to lap*o away, of iitere ind>eeibty.

Attached to cur Assemi .y Rt>»-»ms is a libi^iy. 1 here is a wheel of fortune in
rt, but it is rus'v ar.vi dustv, and never turns, A larj^e di'>ll, with nuiveablc eye>.
was put up to be lul^ed for, by fivc-.ind-twciUy members at two shillings, seven

-*!»«

rniiil fmh nf in,
nilfiniosi |i;iii ,
n's, lii- Blicun

II liinK^ (\4 i( ,

ivc'd ail imiiiU

nn-l .liy liy lli.'
iilly iiilniif tliiii
linii oU Ml III,.
;iinl w Iirn 111,
i>^ lioin piiMi,

I Kill \Milrlj|ij;

!<' It nvniliil'li'

III litllc (^I'lill,

UUVy\ llu'lr, ni

vcn llic lU-niiiv
v:is Si) olil nn.l
w im;ij;in;ilion

)10, CMTpl III,.
mill W 111) t nil

III.' lilllc liiin ■

pliirr nn\v u'lj
kMuiiloior of ii
k\ illi an ( >ir('iv
Mil issues hill,
if;iioininiously
10 unriMlini.'ilr
M'Moiii playcl
oltii'i i;lii)s|\)
ll seal',, l»aiK
|';iiil and .1
i«l I lie seanh
inv-spiriloil
lepails \villi

11 animal '..iK'

niistaiu'y aiiil

il is amuialh-

I'oincs l<) pa-

JHT. with lliv'

Iv. arc staiii!

li" (he KoiMii.

Huly buys il.

;ain as if llu-

nearlhly eol

ese artij,ts-

iheir peiuhi

oceuncil loi

>t" fortune in
>veaMe eyes,
iP.ings, seven

//i Li/ f dry.

-HI -I £M

107

years nf,jo tin; anliiinii, niid ih(> list h lint full vrf. Wo nft inlhi r Raii^niiir, now,
thai tilt' rallle will i mimc oil m xl yt-ni. VVt» liiink s-i, jioiaiise we only waiil nine
nieuihgifi, ami shniild nnly vvaiil eij^lil, liul fiti nuinlicr two liavinj^ j^rimii up since
liii name was rnleied, iind wilhdiawii il when she was maiiiid. hiiwn the street,

th

llirie is (I t'ly ship of eiMisith lahli" liiiidcn, ill the same ( 'iiidilion. Two of Hit
Imys uho weie eiileied foi llmt inllle iiiivc j^oiie t'l India in lenl ship";, since ; and
<iiie was sliol, nnd dird in the lums of his HiHloi's lov(;r, hy whom he soul Win last
\viirds liunie.

This is tti<- lilnaiy Im Ihe Minerva Pres;. Il yoii waul thai kiii'l (»f reading,
ri>ii:t' III our wain iii^-phu:e. The leaves ol ihr lornanees, reduced t<» a condition
V'My like inil papiM, are Ihiikly sliiddcd with nolen in pencil : soincliMic-; (onipli
iiHiilaiy, soiiictiuies jocose. Some ol these tommcnialois, like ((immciitalors in 1
mote extensive way, (|uaiicl with one nnothei. One yoiinj^ gentleman wh(» sarcas-
liialjy wiilcs "<»I!!" uller every senlinicnlal passage, is pniiiied through hi-;
hleraiy c/iicn liyaiiothei, who wi iles •' In.nllin^ I'cast I" Mis; jnlia Mills lias

icjid the whole '.oliiMjIiiin of these iiooics. '^
pnm'H, aa "Is iinl tin; linly loiMliiiij;? |. M."
(t.inced licii- hv llic iMaiiitian'i polrnt spell.

he ha.s left maifinal notes <;ri the

" II. »w thiillmi,^! j. M." " Kn

(. M." She lias also ilalici-.ed Ik r

tavomile liuils in the ilcsciiplion ol Ihe lieio, as "hi; hair, whiidi was (la/Zc an<l
;i'(;;t, ehislcreil in fn// pivJti\ion aiound a t/hii/'/c /•low, wliose lofty paleness
Im spoke the intclleit within." Ii reminds her u\ another hero. She ad<ls, " How
like r>, I„ (an lliis l)e mere c<iiiicidenee ? J. M."

Volt winild hardly j;uess vvhidi is IJie main street of oiir wateriny-idacc, hut you
may know it by its beinj; always stopped up with donkey-ehaisc-S, Whenever you
conic here, and' r,ce hainc-scd doid;eys calini; (lover out of barrows drawn r oni-
plelely ac'dss a iiaiiow lhoioiieh(are, ' may In- <|iiite sute yon are in our llij;h
Slicel. Our !'oli(c you may know by ins unirorm, likewi.so by his never on any
nccotmt inleilcrinj; with anydody especially the tramps and vat;aboiids. In our
f;iiicy shops we have a capital colieetiim ol (laina{;ed floods, amon^' which the flie-i
♦ ll countUvss summers "have been roaming'." We are f^rcat in obsolete seals, and
in laded piii-enshioiis, and in rii;kely camp-stools, and in exploded cutlery, and in
jninialure vessels, and in stunted, iiltle telescopes, an<l in objects made of shells that
piclcnd not Jio In- shel!;. l>imiiiutive spades, barrows, and baskets, are (nir priri-
tipal articles (»r commerce ; but even they don't loi^k «iiiite new scmieluiw, They
always seem to have been oirerctl and refused sonievvlicre else, before ihey came
down to our watei iiit; [ilace.

Net, it must not be supi.cd that our wateiin{;-plaee is an empty [>late, deserted
by all visiluis except a few staunch persons of approved hdelity. On the contrary,
the chances are that if ^oii cime down here in Aujni-.t or September, you wouldn't
Iind a house to lay )()iir head in. As to hnding either house (*r lodj^'in^ of which
you could reduce the terms, you could aeareely en{.;a{;o in a more hopeless pursuit.
For all this, you are to observe 'hat every season is the worst season ever known,
and lli.i.t the honst'iioldin}; popnlalion (;f our wateririfj-place are ruined regularly
every autumn, Tliey are like the farmers, in regard that it is surjirising how much
ruin they will bear. We luxve an excellent hotel — capital baths, warm, cold, and
shower — firsi-rale batliint^'-machines — and as good butchers, bakers, and grocers,
as heart could desire, 'ihey all do business, it is to be [)resumed, from motives of
philanthropy — but it is (juite certain that they arc all being ruined. Their interest
m stiangcis, and their politeness under ruin, bespeak theii amiable nature. You
would say so, if you only saw the baker hel[)in^ a new corner to find suitable
apartments. ***

80 far from being .at a diseount as to comiuany, we are in fact what would be
popularly eaUcd i;Ulit r a nobliy place. .Some lip-top " Nobb, ' corrtc down rv-ca-

«^.-'

' 1""

Our EfigHsh Watering-Place.

^

!

sionally— even Dukes and Duchesses. We have known such carriages to blaze
among the donkey-chaises, as made beholders wink. Attendant on these equipages
come resplendent creatures in plush and powder, who are sure to be stricken dis-
gusted with the indifferent accommodation of our watering-place, and who, of an
evening (particularly when it rains), may be seer very much out of drawing, in
rooms far too small for their line figures, looking discontentedly out of little back
windows into bye-strccts. The lords and ladies get on well enough and quite good-
liumouredly : but if you want to see the gorgeous phenomena who wait upon them
at a perfect non-plus, you should come and look at the resplendent creatures with
little back parlors for servants' halls, and turn-up bedsteads to sleep in, at our
watering-place. You have no idea how they take it to heart.

We have a pier — a queer old wooden pier, fortunately without the slightest pre-
tensions to architecture, and very picturesque in consequence. Boats are hauled
UJ1 upon it, ropes are coiled all over it; lobster-pots, nets, masts, oars, spars, sails,
l)allast, and rickety capstans, make a perfect labyrinth of it. For ever hovering
about this pier, with their hands in their pockets, or leaning over the rough bul-
wark it opposes to the sea, gazing through telescopes which they carry about in the
same profound receptacles, are the Boatmen of our watering-place. Looking at
them, you would say that surely these must be the laziest boatmen in the world.
They lounge about, in obstinate and inflexil)le pantaloons that are apparently made
of wood, the whole season through. Whether talking together about the shipping
in the Channel, or grufily unbending over mugs of beer at the public-house, you
would consider them the slowest of men. The chances are a thousand to one that
you might stay here for ten seasons, and never see a boatman in a hurry. A cer-
tain expression about his loose hands, when they are not in his pockets, as if he
were carrying a considerable lump of iron in each, without any inconvenience,
suggests strength, but he never seems to use it. He has the appearance of perpe-
tually strolling — running is too inappropriate a word to be thought of — to seed.
'J'he only subject on which he seems to feel any approach to enthusiasm, is pitch.
He pitches eveiything he can lay hold of, — the pier, the palings, his boat, his
house, — when there is nothing else left he turns to and even pitches his hat, or his
rough-w Leather clothing. Do not judge him byd<?fceitful appearances. These are
among th-^ bravest and most skilful mariners that exist. Let a gale arise and swell
into a storm, let a sea run that might appal the stoutest heart that ever beat, let
the Light-boat on these dangerous sands throw up a rocket in the night, or let
them hear tl|rough the angry roar the signal-gims of a ship in distress, and these
men spring up into activity so dauntless, so valiant, and heroic, that the world can-
not surpass it. Cavillers may object that they chiefly live upon the salvage of
valuable cargoes. So they do, and God knows it is no great living tliat they get
out of the deadly risks they run. But put that hope of gain aside. Let these rough
fellows be asked, in any storm, who volunteers for the life-boat to save some
]K'rishing souls, as poor and empty-handed as themselves, whose lives the perfec-
tion of human reason does not rate at the value of a farthing each ; and that
l)oat will be manned, as surely and as cheerfully, as if a thousand pounds were told
down on the weather-beaten ]Mer, For this, and for the recollection of their
comrades whom we have know n, whom the raging sea has engulfed before their
children's eyes in such brave eflbrts, whom the secret sand has buried, we hold
the boatmen of our watering-place in our love and honour, and are tender of
the fame they well deserve.

So many children are brought down to our watering-place that, when they are
not out of doors, as they usuafl^ are in fine weather, it is wonderful where they
are put : the whole village seeming much too small to hold them under cover.
In the afternoons, you see no end of salt and sandy little boots drying on upper

t.:

5S, and these

0 save some

window-sills. At bathing-time in the morning, the little bay re-echoes with every
^hrill variety of shriek and splash — after which, if the weather be at all fresh, the
sands teem with small blue mottled legs. The sands are the children's great resort.
They cluste: there, like ants : so busy burying their particular friends, and making
castles with infinite labor which the next tide overthrows, that it is curious ta
consider how their play, to the music of the sea, foreshadows the realities of their
after lives.

It is curious, too, to observe a natural ease of approach that there seems to be
between the children and the boatmen. They mutually make accjuaintance, and
take individual likings, without any help. You will come upon one of those slow
heavy fellows sitting down patiently mending a little ship for a mite of a boy,
whom he could crush to death by throwing his lightest pair of trousers on him.
You will be sensible of the oddest contrast between the smooth little creature,
and the rough man who seems to be carved out of hard-grained wood— between
the delicate hand expectantly held out, and the immense thumb and finger that
can hardly feel the rigging of thread they mend— between the small voice and the
gruff growl — and yet there is a natural propriety in the companionship : always to
be noted in confidence between a child and a person who has any merit of reality
and genuineness : which is admirably pleasant.

We have a preventive station at our watering-place, and much the same thing
may be observed — in a lesser degree, because of their official character — of the
coast blockade ; a steady, trusty, well-conditioned, well-conducted set of men,
with no misgiving about looking you full in the face, and with a quiet thorough-
going way of passing along to their duty at night, carrying 'a ge sou-wester cloth-
ing in reserve, that is fraught with all good prepossession. 1 hey are handy fellows
— neat about their houses — industrious at gardening — would get oji with their
wives, one thinks, in a desert island — and people it, too, soon.

As to the naval officer of the station, with his hearty fresh face, and his blue eye
that has pierced all kinds of weather, it warms our hearts when he comes into
church on a Sunday, with that briglit mixture of blue coat, buff waistcoat, black
neck-kerchief, and gold epaulette, that is associated in the minrls of all Englishmen
with brave, unpretending, cordial, national service. We liko to look at him in his
Sunday state ; and if we were First I^ord (really possessing the indispensable
qualification for the office of knowing nothing whatever about the sea), we would
give him a ship to-morrow.

We have a church, by-the-by, of course— a hideous temple of flint, like a great
petrified haystack. Our chief clerical dignitary, who, to his honor, has done much
for education both in time and money, and has established excellent schools, is a
sound, shrewd, healthy gentleman, who has got into little occasional difficulties
with the neighbouring farmers, but has had a pestilent trick ci being right. Under
a new regulation, he has yielded the church of our watering-place to another
clergyman. Upon the whole we get on in church well. W^e are a little bilious
sometimes, about these day; of fraternisation, and about nations arriving at a new
and more unprejudiced knowledge of each other (which our Christianity don't
quite approve), but it soon goes off, and then we get on very well.

There are two dissenting chapels, besides, in our small watering-place ; being in
about the proportion of a hundred and twenty guns to a yacht. Hut the dissension
that has torn us lately, has not been a religious one. It has arisen on the novel
question of Gas. Our watering-place has been convulsed by the agitation. Gas or
No Gas. It was never reasoned why No Gas, but there was a great No Gas party.
Broadsides were printed and stuck about — a startHog circumstance in our watering-
place. The No Gas party rested content with chalking " No Gas ! " and "Down
with Gas ! " and other such angry war-whoops, on the few back gates and scraps

I'lf

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Our English Watering- Place,

of wall which the limits of our watering- place afTurd ; but the Gas party printed
and posted bills, wherein they took the high ground of prt)clainiing against the No
Gas party, that it was said Let there be light and there was light ; and that not to
have light (that is gas-light) in our watering-place, was to contravene the great
decree. Whether by these thunderbolts or not, the No Gas party were defeated ;
and in this present season we have had our handful of shops illuminated for the
first time. Such of the No Gas party, ho\vcv(.'r, as have got shops, remain in
opposition and burn tallow— exhibiting in their windows the very picture of the
sulkincss that punishes itself, and a new illustration of the old adage about cutting
off your nose to be revenged on your face, iu cutting off their gas to be revenged
on their business.

Other population tlian we have indicated, our watering-place has none. There
arc a few old used-up boatmen who creep about in the sunlight with the help of
st'cks, and there is a poor imbecile shoemaker who wanders his lonely life away
among the rocks, as if he were looking for his reason — which he will never find.
Sojourners in neighbouring watering-places come occasionally in flys to stare at us,
and drive away again as if they thought us very dull ; Italian boys come, Puncli
comes, the Fantoccini come, the Tumblers come, the Ethiopians come ; Glee-
singers come at night, and hum and vibrate (not always melodiously) under our
windows. IJut they all go soon, and leave us to ourselves again. We once had a
travelling Circus and Wombwell's Menagerie at the same time. They both know
better than ever to try it again ; and the Menagerie had nearly razed us from the
face of the earth in getting the elephant away— his caravan was so large, and the
watering-place so small. We have a fine sea, wholesome for all people ; profitable
for the body, profitable for the mind. The poet's words arq soniQtimes on its
awful lips ;

And the stately ships go on

To their liaven under the hill ;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,

And the sound uf a voice that is still !

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O sea !
But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.

Yet it is not always so, for the speech of the sea is various, and wants not
abundant resource of cheerfulness, hope, and lusty encouragement. And since I
have been idling at the window here, the tide has risen. The boats are dancing
on the bubbling water : the colliers are afloat again j the white-bordered waves
rush in ; the children

Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back ;

the radiant sails are gliding past the shore, and shining on the far horizon; all the
sea is sparkling, heaving, swelling up with life and beauty, this bright morning.

^^i

Crossing the Chanml,

171

>f

OUR FRENCH WATERING-PLACE.

TTAVrsv. earned, by mfiny ycnr:=; of ridclity, the rij^ht to be somctimcii inconstant
to our English watering-place, we have dallictl for two or three seasons with a
French watering-place : once solely known to us as a town with a very long street,
])eginning with an abattoir and ending with a steam-boat, which it seemed our fate
tt) l)ehold only at daybreak on winter mornings, when (in the days before conti-
nental railroads), just sufficiently awake to know that we were most uncomHjrtably
asleep, it was our destiny always to clatter through it, in the coupe of the ililigence
from Paris, with a sea of mud behind us, and a sea of tumbling waves before. In
relation to which latter monster, our mind's eye ncnv recals a worthy Frenchman in
a seal-skin cap with a braided hood over it, once our travelling companion in the
coupd aforesaid, who, waking up with a pale and crumpled visage, and hooking
ruefully out at the grim row of breakers enjoying themselves fanatically on an in-
strument of torture called "the liar," inquired of us whether we were ever sick at
sea? Both to prepare his mind f(jr the abject creature we were presently to become,
and also to afford him consok^tion, we replied, "Sir, your servant is always sick
when it is possible to be so." He returned, altogether uncheered by the bright
example, "Ah, Heaven, but I am always sick, even when it is //;n)ossible to be
so."

The means of communication between the French capital and our French water-
ing-place are wholly changed since those days ; but, the Channel remains unbridged
as yet, and the old floundering and knocking abc- t go on there. It must be con-
fessed that saving in reasonable (and therefore rare) sea-weather, the act of arrival
at our French watering-place from England is difficult to be achieved with dignity.
Several little circumstances combine to render the visitor an object of humiliation.
In the first place, the steamer no sooner touches the port, than all the passengers
fall into captivity : being boarded by an overpowering force of Custom-house offi-
cers, and marched into a gloomy dungeon. In the second place, the road to this
dungeon is fenced off with ropes breast-high, and outside t'^'' ^.es all the Eng-
lish in the place wlio have lately been sea-sick and are now wc, assemble in their
best clothes to enjoy the degradation of their dilapidated fellow-creatures. " Oh,
my gracious ! how ill this one has been ! '* " Here's a damp one coming next ! "
" Ileres a pale one ! " " Oh ! Ain't he green in the face, this next one ! " Even
we ourself (not deficient in natural dignity) have a lively remembrance of stagger-
ing up this detested lane one September day in a gale of wind, when we were
received like an irresistible comic actor, with a burst of laughter and applause,
occasioned by the extreme iml;ecility of our legs. «•

We were coming to the third place. In the thirft place, the captives, being shut
up in the gloomy dungeon, are strained, two or three at a time, into an inner cell,
to be examined as to passports ; and across the doorway of communication, stands
a military creature making a bar of his arm. Two ideas arc generally present to
the British mind during these ceremonies ; first, that it is necessary to make for the
cell with violent struggles, as if it were a life-boat and the dungeon a ship going
down ; secondly, that the military creature's arm is a national afTront, which the
government at home ought instantly to " take up." The British mind and body
becoming heated by these fantasies, delirious answers are made to inquiries, and

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

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172

Our French Watering-Place.

extravagant actions performed. Thus, Johnson persists in giving Johnson as his
baptismal name, and substituting for his ancestral designation the national ** Dam !"
Neither can he by any means be brought to recognise the distinction between a
portmanteau-key and a passport, but will obstinately persevere in tendering the one
when asked for the other. This brings him to the fourth place, in a state of mere
idiotcy ; and when he is, in the fourth place, cast out at a little door into a howling
wilderness of touters, he becomes a lunatic with wild eyes and floating hair until
rescued and soothed. If friendless and unrescued, he is generally put into a railway
omnibus and taken to Paris.

But, our French watering-place, when it is once got into, is a very enjoyable
place. It has a varied and beautiful country around it, and many characteristic
and agreeable things within it. To be sure, it might have fewer bad smells and less
decaying refuse, and it might be better drained, and much cleaner in many parts,
and therefore infinitely more healthy. Still, it is a bright, airy, pleasant, cheerful
town ; and if you were to walk down either of its three well-paved main streets,
towards five o'clock in the afternoon, when delicate odours of cookery fill the air,
and its hotel windows (it is full of hotels) give glimpses of long tables set out for
dinner, and made to look sumptuous by the aid of napkins folded fan-wise, you
would rightly judge it to be an uncommonly good town to eat and drink in.

We have an old walled town, rich in cool public wells of water, on the top of a
hill within and above the present business-town ; and if it were some hundreds of
miles further from England, instead of being, on a clear day, within sight of the
grass growing in the crevices of the chalk-cliffs of Dover, you would long ago have
been bored to death about that town. It is more picturesque and quain*^ than half
the innocent places which tourists, following their leader like sheep, have made
impostors of. To say nothing of its houses with grave courtyards, its queer by-
corners, and its many-windowed streets white and quiet in the sunlight, there is an
ancient belfry in it that would have been in all the Annuals and Albums, going
and gone, these hundred years, if it had but been more expensive to get at.
Happily it has escaped so well, being only in our French watering-place, that you
may like it of your own accord in a natural manner, without being required to go
into convulsions about it. We regard it as one of the later blessings of our life,
that BiLKiNS, the only authority on Taste, never took any notice that we can find
out, of our French watering-place. Bilkins never wrote about it, never pointed
out anything to be seen in it, never measured anything in it, always left it alone.
For which relief, Heaven bless the town and the memory of the immortal Bilkins
likewise !

There is a channing walk, arched and shaded by trees, on tlie old walls that
form the four sides of this High Town, whence you get glimpses of the streets
below, and changing views of the other town and of the river, and of the hills and
of the sea. It is made more agreeable and peculiar by some of the solemn houses
that are rooted in the deep streets below, bursting into a fresher existence a-top,
and having doc's and windows, and even gardens, on these ramparts. A child
going in at the courtyard gate of one of these houses, climbing up the many stairs,
and coming out at the fourth-floor window, might conceive himself another Jack,
alighting on enchanted ground from another bean-stalk, It is a place wonderfully
populous in children ; English children, with governesses reading novels as they
walk down the shady lanes of trees, or nursemaids interchanging gossip on the
seats ; French children with their smiling bonnes in snow-white caps, and them-
selves— if little boys — in straw head-gear like bee-hives, work-baskets and church
hassocks. Three years ago, there were three weazen old men, one bearing a
frayed red ribbon in his threadbare button-hole, always to be found walking
together among these children, before dinner-time. If they walked for an appetite.

0- *

Its Markets.

173

they doubtless lived en pension— were contracted for — otherwise their poverty
would have made it a rash action. They were stooping, blear-eyed, dull old men,
slip-shod and shabby, in long-skirted short-waisted coats and meagre trousers,
and yet with a ghost of gentility hovering in their company. They spoke little to
each other, and looked as if they might have been politically discontented if they
had had vitality enough. Once, we overheard red-ribbon feebly complain to the
other two that somebody, or something, was *' a Robber ;" and then they all three
set their mouths so that they would have ground their teeth if tliey had had any.
The ensuing winter gathered red-ribbon unto the great company of faded ribbons,
and next year the remaining two were there — getting themselves entangled with
hoops and dolls — familiar mysteries to the children — probably in the eyes of most
of them, harmless creatures who had never been like children, and whom children
could never be like. Another winter came, and another old man went, and so,
this present year, the last of the triumvirate, left off walking — it was no good, now
— and sat by himself on a little solitary bench, with the hoops and the dolls as
lively as ever all about him.

In the Place d'Armes of this town, a little decayed market is held, which seems
to slip through the old gateway, like water, and go rippling down the liill, to
mingle with the murmuring market in the lower town, and get lost in its movement
and bustle. It is very agreeable on an idle summer morning to pursue this market-
stream from the hill-top. It begins, dozingly and dully, with a few sacks of com ;
starts into a surprising collection of boots and shoes ; goes brawling down the hill
in a diversified channel of old cordage, old iron, old crockery, old clothes, civil and
military, old rags, new cotton goods, flaming prints of saints, little looking-glasses,
and incalculable lengths of tape ; dives into a backway, keeping out of sight for a
little while, as streams will, or only sparkling for a moment in the shape of a market
drinking-shop ; and suddenly reappears behind the great church, shooting itself
into a bright confusion of white-capped women and blue-bloused men, poultry,
vegetables, fruits, flowers, pots, pans, praying-chairs, soldiers, country butter,
umbrellas and other sun-shades, girl-porters waiting to be hired with baskets at their
backs, and one weazen little old man in a cocked hat, wearing a cuirass of drinking-
glasses and carrying on his shoulder a crimson temple fluttering with flags, like a
glorified pavior's rammer without the handle, who rinj^o a little bell in all parts of
the scene, and cries his cooling drink Hola, Hola, Ho-o-o ! in a shrill cracked
voice that somehow makes itself heard, above all the chaffering and vending hum.
Early in the afternoon, the whole course of the stream is dry. The praying chairs
are put back in the church, the umbrellas are folded up, the unsold goods are
carried away, the stalls and stands disappear, the square is swept, the hackney
coaches lounge there to be hired, and on all the country roads (if you walk about,
as much as we do) you will see the peasant women, always neatly and comfortably
dressed, riding home, with the pleasantest saddle-furniture of clean milk-pails,
bright butter-kegs, and the like, on the jolliest little donkeys in the world.

We have another market in our French watering-place — that is to say, a few
wooden hutches in the open street, down by the Port — devoted to fish. Our fish-
ing-boats are famous everywhere ; and our fishing people, though they love lively
colours and taste is neutral (see Bilkins), are among the most picturesque people
we ever encountered. They have not only a quarter of their own in the town
itself, but they occupy whole villages of their own on the neighbouring cliffs.
Their churches and chapels are their own ; they consort with one another, they inter-
marry amon themselves, their customs are their own, and their costume is their
own and never changes. As soon as one of their boys can walk, he is provided
with a long bright red nightcap ; and one of their men would as soon think of going
afloat without his head, as without that indispensable appendage to it. Then, they

II'

U ^li.

v.-ear the noblest boots, with the hugest tops— flapping and bulging over anyhow ;
r.bove which, they encase themselves in such wonderful overalls and petticoat
trousers, made to all appearance of tarry old sails, so additionally stiffened with
l)itch and salt, that the wearers have a walk of their own, and go straddling and
swinging about among the boats and barrels and nets and rigging, a sight to see.
Then, their younger women, by dint of going down to the sea barefoot, to fling their
l)askcts into the boats as they come in with the tide, and bespeak tlie first fruits
of the haul with propitiatory promises to love and marry that dear fisherman who
shall fill that basket like an Angel, have the finest legs ever carved by Nature in
tlie brightest mahogany, and they walk like Juno. Their eyes, too, are so lustrous
that their long gold ear-rings turn dull beside those brilliant neighbours ; and when
tliey are dressed, what with these beauties, and their fine fresh faces, and their
niany petticoats — striped petticoats, red petticoats, blue petticoats, always clean
and smart, and never too long — and their home-made stockings, mulberry-coloured,
l)lue, brown, purple, lilac — which the older women, taking care of the Dutch-
looking children, sit in all sorts of places knitting, knitting, knitting from morning
tonight — and what with their little saacy bright blue jackets, knitted too, and fitting
close to their handsome figures ; and what with the natural grace with which they
v,'ear the commonest cap, or fold the commonest handkerchief round their luxu-
riant hair — we say, in a word and out of breath, that taking all these premises into
our consideration, it has never been a matter of the least surprise to us that we have
never once met, in the cornfields, on the dusty roads, by the breezy windmills, on
the plots of short sweet grass overhanging the sea— anywhere — a young fisherman
and fisherwoman of our French watering-place together, but the arm of that fisher-
man has invariably been, as a matter of course and without any absurd attempt to
disguise so plain a necessity, round the neck or waist of that fisherwoman. And
we have had no doubt whatever, standing looking at their uphill streets, house
rising above house, and terrace above terrace, and bright garments here and there
lying sunning on rough stone parapets, that the pleasant mist on all such objects,
caused by their being seen through the brown nets hung across on poles to dry, is,
in the eyes of every tnie young fisherman, a mist of love and beauty, setting off
the goddess of his heart.

^Ioreover it is to be observed that these are an industrious people, and a
domestic people, and an honest people. And though we are aware that at the
Ijidding of Bilkins it is our duty to fall down and worship the Neapolitans, we
make bold very much to prefer the fishing people of our French watering-place —
especially since our last visit to Naples within these twelvemonths, when we found
only four conditions of men remaining in the whole city : to wit, lazzaroni, priests,
spies, and soldiers, and all of them beggars j the paternal government having
banished all its subjects except the rascals.

But we can never henceforth separate our French watering-place from our
own landlord of two summers, M. Loyal Devasseur, citizen and town-councillor.
I'ermit us to have the pleasure of presenting M. Loyal Devasseur.

His own family name is simply Loyal ; but, as he is married, and as in that
l^art of France a husband always adds to his own name the family name of his
wife, he writes himself Loyal Devasseur. He owns a compact little estate of
some twenty or thirty acres on a lofty hill-side, and on it he has built two country
houses, which he lets furnished. They are by many degrees the best houses that
are so let near our French watering-place ; we have had the honour of living in
both, and can testify. The entrance-hall of the first we inhabited was ornamented
with a plan of the estate, representing it as about twice the size of Ireland ; inso-
niuch that when we were yet new to the property (M. Loyal always speaks of it as
"La propriete") we went three miles straight on end in search of the bridge of

M. Loyal Da'asscur.

175

Austerlitz— which we aftrrw.inls found to 1)0 inimcdialcly outside the window.
The Chdteau of the Old (inard, in another part of the grounds, and, according to
the plan, about two leagues frcm the little dining-room, we sought in vain for a
week, until, happening one evening to sit upon a bench in the forest (forest in the
|ilan), a few yards from the house-door, we observed at our feet, in the igno-
minious circumstances of Ijcing upside down and greenly rotten, the Old (iuard
himself: that is to say, the painted effigy of a member of tliat distinguished corps,
seven feet high, and in the act of carrying arms, who had had the misfortune to be
blown down in the previous winter. Jt will be perceived that M. Loyal is a
staunch admirer of the great Napoleon. lie is an old soldier himself — captain of
the National Guard, with a handsome gold vase on his chimney-piece, presented
to him by his company — and his respect for the memory of the illustrious general
is enthusiastic. Medallions of him, portraits of him, busts of him, pictures of him,
are thickly sprinkled all over the property. During the first month of our occu-
pation, it was our affliction to be constantly knocking down Napoleon : if we
touched a shelf in a dark corner, he toppled over with a crash ; and every door we
opened, shook him to the soul. Yet M. Loyal is not a man of mere castles in the
air, or, as he would say, in Spain. He has a specially practical, contriving,
clever, skilful eye and hand. His houses are delightful. He unites P'rench
elegance and English comfort, in a happy manner quite his own. lie has an
extraordinary genius for making tasteful little bedrooms in angles of liis roofs,
which an Englishm-an would as soon think of turning to any account as he would
think of cultivating the Desert. We have ourself reposed deliciously in an elegant
chamber of M. Loyal's construction, with our head as nearly in the kitchen chim-
ney-pot as we can conceive it likely for the head of any gentleman, not by pro-
fession a Sweep, to be. And, into whatsoever strange nook M. Loyal's genius
penetrates, it, in that nook, infallibly constnicts a cupboard and a row of pegs.
In either of our houses, we could have put away the knapsacks and hung up the
hats of the whole regiment of Guides.

Aforetime, M. Loyal was a tradesman in the town. Vou can transact business
with no present tradesman in the town, and give your card *' chez M. Loyal," but
a brighter face shines upon you directly. We doubt if there is, ever was, or ever
will be, a man so universally pleasant in the minds of people as M. Loyal is in the
minds of the citizens of our French watering-place. They rub their hands and
laugh when they speak of him. Ah, but he is such a good child, such a brave
boy, such a generous spirit, that Monsieur Loyal ! It is the honest truth. M.
Loyal's nature is the nature of a gentleman. He cultivates his ground with his
own hands (assisted by one little labourer, who falls into a fit now and then) ; and
he digs and delves from mom to eve in prodigious perspirations — "works always,"
as he says— but, cover him with dust, mud, weeds, water, any stains you will, you
never can cover the gentleman in M. Loyal. A portly, upright, broad-shouldered,
brown-faced man, whose soldierly bearing gives him the appearance of being taller
than he is, look into the bright eye of M. Loyal, standing before you in his work-
ing blouse and cap, not particularly well shaved, and, it may be, very earthy, and
you shall disceni in M. Loyal a gentleman whose true politeness is in grain, and
confirmation of whose word by his bond you would blush to think of. Not with-
out reason is M. Loyal when he tells that story, in his own vivacious way, of his
travelling to Fulham, near London, to buy all these hundreds and hundreds of
trees you now see upon the Property, then a bare, bleak hill; and of his sojourn-
ing in Fulham three months; andof his jovial evenings with the market-gardeners;
and of the cro^vning banquet before his departure, when the market-gardeners
rose as one man, clinked their glasses all together (as the custom at Fulham is), and
cried, " Vive Loyal ! "

V\

iy6

Our French Water ing- Place.

¥ i

I!

rt" '^n

M. Loya has an agreeable wife, but no family ; and he loves to drill the
children of his tenants, or run races with them, or do anything with them, or for
them, that is good-natured. He is of a highly convivial temperament, and his
hospitality is unbounded. Billet a soldier on him, and he is delighted. Five-and-
thirty soldiers had M. Loyai billeted on him this present summer, and they all got
fat and red-faced in two days. It became a legend among the troops that whoso-
ever got billeted on M. Loyal rolled in clover ; and so it fell out that the fortunate
man who drew the billet " M. Loyal Devasseur" always leaped into the air,
though in heavy marching order. M. Loyal cannot bear to admit anything that
might seem by any implication to disparage the niilitr.ry profession. We hinted to
him once, that we were conscious of a remote doubt arising in our mind, whether
a sou a day for pocket-money, tobacco, stockings, drink, washing, and social
pleasures in general, left a very large margin for a soldier's enjoyment. Pardon !
said Monsieur Loyal, rather wincing. It was not a fortune, but — a la bonne
iieure — it was better than it used to be I What, we asked him on another occasion,
were all those neighbouring peasants, each living with his family in one room, and
each having a soldier (perhaps two) billeted on him every other night, required to
provide for those soldiers? "Faith!" said M. Loyal, reluctantly; **a bed,
monsieur, and fire to cook with, and a candle. And they share their supper
with those soldiers. It is not possible that they could eat alone," — "And what
allowance do they get for this ? " said we. Monsieur Loyal drew himself up
taller, took a step back, laid his hand upon his breast, and S£'.d, with majesty,
ns speaking for himself and all France, *' Monsieur, it is a contribution to the
State!"

It is never going to rain, according to M. Loyal. When it is impossible to deny
that it is now raining in torrents, he says it will be fine — charming — magnificent —
to-morrow. It is never hot on the Property, he contends. Likewise it is never
cold. The flowers, he says, come out, delighting to grow there ; it is like Paradise
this morning ; it is like the Garden of Eden. He is a little fanciful in his lan-
guage : smilingly observing of Madame Loyal, when she is absent at vespers, that
she is " gone to her salvation" — allee h. son salut. He has a great enjoyment of
tobacco, but nothing would induce him to continue smoking face to face with a
lady. His short black pipe immediately goes into his breast pocket, scorches his
blouse, and nearly sets him on fire. In the Town Council and on occasions of
•ceremony, he appears in a full suit of black, with a waistcoat of magnificent
breadth across the chest, and a shirt-collar of fabulous proportions. Good
M. Loyal ! Under blouse or waistcoat, he carries one of the gentlest hearts that
beat in a nation teeming with gentle people. He has had losses, and has been at
his best under them. Not only the loss of his way by night in the Fulham times —
when a bad subject of an Englishman, under pretence of seeing him home, took
him into all the night public-houses, drank "arfanarf " in every one at his expense,
and finally fled, leaving him shipwrecked at Cleefeeway, which we apprehend to
be RatclifTe Highway — but heavier losses than that. Long ago a family of
•children and a mother were left in one of his houses without money, a whole year.
M. Loyal — anything but as rich as we wish he had been— had not the heart to say
*' you must go ; " so they stayed on and stayed on, and paying-tenants who would
have come in couldn't come in, and at last they managed to get helped home across
the water ; and M. Loyal kissed the whole group, and said, ' ' Adieu, my poor
infants ! " and sat down in their deserted salon and smoked his pipe of peace. —
•' The rent, M. Loyal ? " " Eh ! well ! The rent ! " M. Loyal shakes his head.
*'Le bon Dieu," says M. Loyal presently, "will recompense me," and he laughs
and smokes his pipe of peace. May he smoke it on the Property, and not be
recompensed, these fifty years !

lis Amusements.

^77

There are public amusements in our French watering-place, or it would not be
French. They are very popular, and very cheap. The sea-bathing— which may
rank as the most favoured daylight entertainment, inasmuch as the French visitors
bathe all day long, and seldom appear to think of remaining less than an hour at
a lime in the water — is astoundingly cheap. Omnibuses convey you, if you please,
from a convenient part of the town to the beach and back again ; you have a clean
and comfortable bathing-machine, dress, linen, and all appliances ; and the charge
for the whole is half-a-franc, or fivepence. On the pier, there is usually a guitar,
which seems presumptuously enough to set its tinkling against the deep hoarseness
of the sea, and there is always some boy or woman who sings, without any voice,
little songs without any tune : the strain we have most frequently heard being an
appeal to "the sportsman" not to bag that choicest of game, the swallow. For
bathing purposes, we have also a subscription establishment with an esplanade,
where people lounge about with telescopes, and seem to get a good deal of weari-
ness for their money ; and we have also an association of individual machine pro-
prietors combined against this formidable rival. M. Feroce, our own particular
friend in the bathing line, is one of these. How he ever came by his name we
cannot imagine. He is as gentle and polite a man as M. Loyal Devasseur himself;
immensely stout withal; and of a beaming aspect. M. Feroce has saved so many
people from drowning, and has been decorated with so many medals in consequence,
that his stoutness seems a special dispensation of Providence to enable him to wear
them ; if his girth were the girth of an ordinary man, he could never hang them
on, all at once. It is only on very great occasions that M. Feroce displays his
shining honours. At other times they lie by, with rolls of manuscript testifying to
the causes of their presentation, in a huge glass case in the red-sofa'd salon of his
private residence on the beach, where M. Feroce also keeps his family pictures,
his portraits of himself as he appears both in bathing life and in private life, his
little boats that rock by clockwork, and his other ornamental possessions.

Then, we have a commodious and gay Theatre — or had, for it is burned down
now — where the opera was always preceded by a vaudeville, in which (as usual)
everybody, down to the little old man with the large hat and the little cane and
tassel, who always played either my Uncle or my Papa, suddenly broke out of the
dialogue into the mildest vocal snatches, to the great perplexity of unaccustomed
strangers from Great Britain, who never could make out when they were singing
and when they were talking — and indeed it was pretty much the same. But, the
caterers in the way of entertainment to whom we are most beholden, are the Society
of Welldoing, who are active all the summer, and give the proceeds of their good
works to the poor. Some of the most agreeable fStes they contrive, are announced
as "Dedicated to the children ; " and the taste with which they turn a small public
enclosure into an elegant garden beautifully illuminated ; and the thorough -going
heartiness and energy with which they personally direct the childish pleasures ; are
supremely delightful. For fivepence a head, we have on these occasions donkey
races with English *' Jokeis," and other rustic sports; lotteries for toys; round-
abouts, dancing on the grass to the music of an admirable band, fire-balloons and
fireworks. Further, almost every week all through the summer — never mind, now,
on what day of the week — there is a fete in some adjoining village (called in that
part of the country a Ducasse), where the people — really the people — dance on the
green turf in the open air, round a little orchestra, that seems itself to dance, there
is such an airy motion of flags and streamers all about it. And we do not suppose
that between the Torrid Zone and the North Pole there are to be found male
dancers with such astonishingly loose legs, furnished with so many joints in wrong
places, utterly unknown to Professor Owen, as those who here disport themselves.
Sometimes, the fete appertains to a particular trade ; you will see among the

N

M'lJ

/m

; i ■: !

I'i

178

Our French Watering- Place.

cheerful yRung women at the joint Ducassc of the milliners and tailors, a whole-
some knowledge of the art of making common and cheap things uncommon and
pretty, by good sense and good taste, that Is a practical lesson to any rank of
society in a whole island we could mention. The oddest feature of these agreeable
scenes is the everlasting Roundabout (we preserve an English word wherever we
can, as we are writing the English language), on the wooden horses of which
machine grown-up people of all ages are wound rdlM^^nd round with the utmost
solemnity, while the proprietor's wife grinds an orgai|^^able of only one tunc,
in the centre. ^^^

As to the boarding-houses of our French watering-place, ^they are Legion, and
would require a distinct trea*;ise. It is not without a sentiment of national pride
that we believe them to contain more bores from the shores of Albion than all the
clubs in London. As you walk timidly in their neighbourhood, the Tery neck-
clothes and hats of your elderly compatriots cry to you from the stones of the
streets, '* We are Bores — avoid us ! " We have never overheard at street corners
such lunatic scraps of political and social discussion as among these dear country,
men of ours. They believe everything that is impossible and nothing that is true.
They carry rumours, and ask questions, and make corrections and improvements
on one another, staggering to the human intellect^.,--^(^TOi-they are for ever rushing
into the English library, propounding such incerl^rehensible paradoxes to the fair
mistress of that establishment, that wei>eg.to recommend her to her Majesty's
gracious consideration as a fit object for a pension.

The English form a considerable parti£iLihe population of our French watering-
place, and are deservedly addressed and rcs^^ected in many ways. Some of the
surface-addresses to them are odd enough, as jvhen aj3J*»^ress puts a placard out
side her house announcing her possession -----

" Mingle ;" (Jr^when a tavem-lce
English game of " Nokemdon."
our French watering-place ^that a 1
there, has taught each to like
superior to the absurd prejudio
in both countries equally.

Drumming and trump^fin|5tt' oardTrse go" on for. ever in our French watering-
place. Flag-flying is at a preffiam, too ; but, we cheerfully avow that we consider
a flag a very pretty object/^Hla that we take such outward signs of innocent liveli-
ness to our heart of heajrt^ The people, in the town and in the country, are a
busy people who work hard ; they are sober, temperate,^ goodhumoured, light-
hearted, and gepefally remarkable for their engaging manners. Few just men,
not immoderately bilious, could see them in their recreations \^thout very much
respecting t|i^caaracter that is so easily, so harmlessly, and so simply, pleased.

ous British instrument, a

•modation for the celebrated

the least pleasant feature of

nt fusion of the two great nations

d to learn from the other, and to rise

efed among the weak and ignorant

BILL-STICKING.

neavv on

If I had an enemy u^^R I hated— which Heaven forbid !— and if I knew o<
something which sat neavy on his conscience, I think I would introduce that
something into a Posting- Bill, and place a large impression in the hands of an
active sticker. I can scarcely imagine a more terrible revenge. I should haunt
him, by tbis means, night and day. I do not mean to say that I would publish
his secret, in red letters two feet high, for all the town to road : I would darkly
refer to it. It should be between him, and me, and the Posting-Bill. Say, for
example, that, at a certain period of his life, my enemy had surreptitiously
possessed himself of a key. I would then embark my capital in the lock business,
and conduct that business on the advertising principle. In all my placards and
advertisements, I would throw up the line Secret Keys. Thus, if my enemy
passed an uninhabited hpuse, he would see his conscience glaring down on him
from the parapets, and peeping up at him from the cellars. If he took a dead wall
in his walk, it would be alive with reproaches. If he sought refuge in an omnibus,
the panels thereof would become Belshazzar's palace to him. If he took boat, in
a wild endeavour to escape, he would see the fatal words lurking under the arches
of the bridges over the Thames. If he walked the streets with downcast eyes, he
would recoil from the very stones of the pavement, made eloquent by lamp-black
lithograph. If he drove or rode, his way would be blocked up, by enormous
vans, each proclaiming the same words over and over again from its whole extent
of surface. Until, having gradually grown thinner and paler, and having at last
totally rejected food, he wgcldlltnso^aWjijaerish^ and I should be revenged. This
conclusion I sjjouidrTio doubt, celebra!lR)y laughing a hoarse laugh in three
syllables^,-aTldiblding my aims tight upon my chest agreeably to most of the
exaiKples of glutted animosity that I have had an opportunity of observing in con-
nexion' with the Drama — which, by-the-by, as involving a good deal of noise,
ajipears to me to be occasionally confounded with the Drummer.

The foregoing reflections presented themselves to my mind, the other day, as 1
contemplated (being newly come to London from the East Riding of Yorkshire,
on a house-hunting e:::pedition for next May), an old warehouse which rotting paste
and rotting paper had brought down to the condition of an old cheese. It would
have been impossible to say, on the most conscientious survey, how much of its
front was brick and mortar, and how much decaying and decayed plaster. It was
so thickly encrusted with fragments of bills, that no ship's keel after a long voyage
could be half so foul. All traces of the broken windows were billed out, the doors
were billed across, the water-spout was billed over. The building was shored up
to prevent its tumbling into the street ; and the very beams erected against it were
less wood than paste and paper, they had been so continually posted and reposted.
The forlorn dregs of old posters so encumbered this wreck, that there was no hold
for new posters, and the stickers had abandoned the place in despair, except one
enterprising man who had hoisted the last masquerade to a clear spot near the
level of the stack of chimneys where it waved and drooped like a shattered flag.
Below the rusty cellar-grating, crumpled remnants of old bills torn down, rotted
awa in wasting heaps of fallen leaves. Here and there, some of the thick rind of
the honse had p^led off in strips, and fluttered heavily down, littering the street ;

♦•;.

I So

Bill-Sticking.

but, still, below these rents and gashes, layers of decomposing posters showed
themselves, as if they were interminable. I thought the buihling could never even
be pulled down, but in one adhesive heap of rottenness and poster. As to gettinj.j
in — I don't believe that if the Sleeping iJeauty and her Court had been so billed
up, the young I'rince could have done it.

Knowing all the jiosters that were yet legible, intimately, and pondering on their
ubicjuitous nature, I was led into the reflections with which I l)egan this paper, hy
considering what an awful thing it would be, ever to have wronged — say M.
Jl/LLIKN for example — and to have his avenging name in characters of fire inces-
santly before my eyes. Or to have iniure<l Madam K Tussaud, and undergo a
similar retrii)Utinn. Has any man a self-reproachful thought associated with pills,
or ointment ? What an avenging spirit to that man is Professor IIollovvay!
Have I sinned in oil ? Cahhurn pursues me. Have I a dark remembrance asso-
ciated with any gentlemanly garments, bespoke or ready made? MosES and Son
are on my track. Did I ever aim a blow at a defenceless fellow-creature's head?
That head eternally being measured for a wig, or that worse head which was bald
before it used the balsam, and hirsute afterwards — enforcing the benevolent moral,
" Better to be bald as a Dutch cheese than come to this," — undoes me. Have I
no sore ])laces in my mind which Mechi touches — which Nicoi-L probes — whitli
no registered article whatever lacerates ? Does no discordant note within me thrill
responsive to mysterious watchwords, as *' Revalenta Arabica," or "Number One
St. Paul's Churchyard " ? Then may I enjoy life, and be happy.

Lifting up my eyes, as I was musing to this effect, I beheld advancing towards
me (I was then on Cornhill, near to the Royal Exchange), a solemn procession of
three advertising vans, of fust-class dimensions, each drawn by a very little horse.
As the cavalcade approached, I was at a loss to reconcile the careless deportment
of the drivers of these vehicles, with the terrific announcements they conducted
through the city, which being a summary of the contents of a Sunday newspaper,
were of the most thrilling kind. Robbery, fire, murder, and the ruin of the
United Kingdom — each discharged in a line by itself, like a separate broadside of
red-hot shot — were among the least of the warnings addressed to an unthinking
people. Yet, the Ministers of Fate who drove the awful cars, leaned forward with
their arms upon their knees in a state of extreme lassitude, for want of any subject
of interest. The first man, whose hair I might naturally have expected to see
standing on end, scratched his head — one of the smoothest I ever beheld — with
profound indifference. The second whistled. The third yawned.

Pausing to dwell upon this apathy, it appeared to me, as the fatal cars came by
me, that I descried in the second car, through the portal in which the charioteer
was seated, a figure stretched upon the floor. At the same time, I thought I smelt
tobacco. The latter im])ression passed quickly from me ; the former remained.
Curious to know whether this prostrate figure was the one impressible man of the
whole capital who had Ijcen stricken insensible by the terrors revealed to him, and
whose form had been placed in the car by the charioteer, from motives of
humanity, I followed the procession. It turned into Leaclenhall-market, and
halted at a public-house. Each driver dismounted. I then distinctly heard,
proceeding from the second car, where I had dimly seen the prostrate form, the
words :

** And a pipe !"

The dHver entering the public-house with his fellows, apparently for purposes of
refreshment, I could not refrain from mounting on the shaft of the second vehicle,
and looking in at the portal. I then beheld, reclining on his back upon the floor,
on a kind of mattrass or divan, a little man in a shooting-coat. The exclamation
•* Dear me " which irresistibly escaped my lips- ca)tsed him to sit upright, and

The King of the BiliStickers,

181

sr.rvcy mc. I found him to be n goo»l-lookinp little man of about fifty, with a
shining f.»cc, a tight head, a l)right eye, a moist wink, a quick speech, a»ul a ready
air. lie had something of a sporting way with lum.

He looked at mc, and I looked at him, until the driver displaced mc by handing
ill a ])int of beer, a pipe, and what I understand is called "a screw " of tobacco —
an object which lias the appearance of a curl-i)aper taken off the barmaid's head,
with the curl in it.

"I beg your ji.lrdon," said T, when the removed person of the driver again
ailmitted of my presenting my face at the pf)rtal. " IWit — excuse my curiosity,
which T inherit from my motiier — do you live here?"

"That's good, too ! " returned the little man, composedly laying aside a pipe he
had smoked out, and fdling the pipe just brought to iiim. ^ 1^

" Oh, you iion't live here then ? " said I.

He shook his head, as he calmly lighted his pipe by means of a German tinder-
box, and replied, "This is my carriage. When things are flat, 1 take a ride
sometimes, and enjoy myself. I am the inventor t)f these wans."

His pipe was now alight. He drank his beer all at once, and he smoked and
he smiled at me.

" It was a great idea ! " said T.

" Not so bad," returned the little man, with the modesty of merit.

" Might I be permitted to inscribe yoxn name upon the tablets of my memory ? "
I asked. -^

" There's not much odds in the name." returned the little man, *' — no name
jarticular — I am the King ot the I^ill-SticKcrs."

*' Good gracious ! " said I.

The monarch informed me, with a smile, that he had never been crowned or
installed with any jiublic ceremonies, but, that he was peaceably acknowledged as
King of the Bill-Stickers in right of being the oldest and most respected member
of "the old school of bill-sticking." lie likewise gave me to understand that
there was a Lord Mavor of the liill-Stickers, whose genius was chiefly exercised
within tlie limits of tne city. He made some allusion, also, to an inferior poten-
tate, called "'I'urkey-legs ; " but, I did not understand that this gentleman was
invested with much power. I rather inferred that he derived his title-, from some
l)eculiarity of gait, and that it was of an honorary character.

*' My father," pursued the King of the Bill-Stickers, "was Engineer, Beadle,
and Bill-Sticker to the parish of St. Andrew's, Holbom, in the year one thousand
seven hundred and eighty. My father stuck bills at the time of the riots of
London."

" You must be acquainted with the whole subject of bill-sticking, from that time
to the present ! " said L

" Pretty well so," was the answer.

" Kxcuse me," said I ; " but I am a sort of collector-

" Not Income-tax ? " cried His Majesty, hastily removing his pipe from his lips.

"No, no," said L

" Water-rate ? " said His Majesty.

" No, no," I returned. «

" (ias ? Assessed ? Sewers ? " said His Majesty.

"You misunderstand me," I replied, soothingly. "Not that sort of collector
at all : a collector of facts."

" Oh, if it's only facts," cried the King of the Bill-Stickers, recovering iTis good-
humour, and banishing the great mistrust that had suddenly fallen upon him,
"come in and welcome ! If it had been income, or winders, I think I should
have pitched you out of the wan, upon my soul ! "

)»

■MUai

rSt

^/7/ .Sy/V/J/V/?.

' f

I i i;

Readily complying with the invitation, I squeezed myself in at the small aper-
ture. His Majesty, graciously handing me a Utile thiet'-lej^ijed stool ou which 1
took mv seat in a corner, incjuircd if I smoked.

•* I do ; — that is, I can," 1 answered.

•' Pipe and a screw ! " said His Majesty to the attendant charioteer. " Do you
prefer a dry smoke, or do you moisten it ? "

As unmitigated tuiacco proiluces most disturbing ellects upon my system (indeed,
if I had perfect moral courage, 1 doubt if I should smoke at all, under any circum-
stances), I advocated moisture, and begged the Sovereign of the Hill- Stickers to
name his usual li(|uor, and to concede to me the privilege of paying for it. After
some delicate reluctance on his part, we were ])rovided, through the instrumen-
tality of the attendant charioteer, with a can of cjUI rum-and-water, flavoured with
sugar and lemon. We were also furnished with a tumbler, and I was provided
with a pipe. His Majesty, then observing that we might combine Inisiness with
conversation, gave the wortl for the car to proceed ; and, to my great delight, we
jogged away at a foot pace.

I say to my great delighS because I am very fond of novelty, and it was a new
sensation to be joltujg through the tumult of the city in that secluded Temple,
[)artly open to the sky, surrounded by the roar without, and seeing nothing but
the clouds. Occasionally, blows from whijis fell heavily on the Temple's walls,
when by stopping up the road longer than usual, we irritated carters and coach-
men to madjiess ; but, they fell harmless upon us within and disturbed not the
serenity of our peaceful retreat. As I looked upward, I felt, I should imagine,
like the Astronomer Royal. I was enchanted by the contrast between the freezing
nature of our external mission on the blood of the populace, and the perfect com-
posure reigning within those sacred precincts : where His Majesty, reclining easily
on his left arm, smoked his pipe and drank his rum-and-water from his own side
of the tumbler, which stood impartially between us. As I looked down from the
clouds and caught his royal eye, he understood my reflections. ** I have an idea,"
he observed, with an upward glance, "of training scarlet runners across in the
season, — making a arbor of it, — and sometimes taking tea in the same, according
to the song."

I nodded approval.

'* And here you repose and think?" said I.

** And think," said he, "of posters — walls— and hoardings."

We were both silent, contemplating the vastness of the subject. I remembered
a surprising fancy of dear Thomas Hood's, and wondered whether this monarch
ever sighed to repair to the great wall of China, and stick bills all over it.

*' And so," said he, rousing himself, ** it's facts as you collect ?"

" Facts," said I. , •

"The facts of bill-sticking," pursued His Majesty, in a benignant manner, "as
known to myself, air as following. When my father was Engineer, Beadle, and
Bin-Sticker to the parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn, he employed women to post
bills for him. He employed women to post bills at the time of the riots of London.
He died at the age of seventy-five year, and was buried by the murdered Eliza
Grim wood, over in the Waterloo-road."

As this was somewhat in the nature of a royal speech, I listened with deference
and silently. His Majesty, taking a scroll from his pocket, proceeded, with great
distinctness, to pour out the following flood of information : —

"'The bills being at that period mostly proclamations and declarations, and
which were omy a demy size, the manner of posting the bills (as they did not use
brushes) was by means of a piece of wood which they called a 'dabber.' Thus
things continued till such time as the State Lottery was passed, and then the

His Majesty i Scroll.

I8$

ccr. " Do you

nt manner, "as

printers began to print larger bills, and men were employed instead of women, as
the Stale Lottery '" ' ssioners then began to send men all over I'.ngland to post
l)ills, and would ktwjj v'^em out for six or eight monlhii at a time, and they were
called l)y the I-ondon bill-stickers * tram/>ers,^ their wages at the time l>eing ten
shillings per day, besides expenses. They used sometimes to be stationed in large
towns for five or six months together, distributing the schemes to all the houses in
the town. And then there were more caricature wood-block engravings for
posting-bills than there are at the present time, the principal printers, at that time,
ofpctsting-bills 1)eing Messrs. Kvans and Kuffy, of lUidge-row ; Thoroughgood and
Whiting, of the present day ; and Messrs. (iye and Ualne, (iracechurch Street,
City, The largest bills printed at that period were a two-sheet double crown ;
and when they commenced printing four-sheet bills, two bill-stickers would work
together. They had no settled wages jier week, but had a fixed price for their
weak, and the London bill-stickers, during a lottery week, have been known to
earn, each, eight or nine pounds per week, till the day of drawing ; likewise the
men who carried boards \\\ the street used to have one pound per week, and the
lj;ll-stickcrs at that time would not allow any one to wilfully cover or destroy their
tills, as they had a society amongst themselves, and very frequently dined together
at some public-house where they used to go of an evening to have their work
delivered out untoe 'em.'"

All this His Majesty delivered in a gallant manner ; posting it, as it were,
before me, in a great proclamation. I took advantage of the pause he now made,
to inquire what a "two-sheet double crown" might express?

"A two-sheet double crown," replied the King, "is a bill thirty-nine inches
wide by thirty inches high."

*' Is it possible," said I, my mind reverting to the gigantic admonitions we were
then displaying to the multitude — which were as infants to some of the posting-
bills on the rotten old warehouse — "that some few years ago the largest bill was
no larger than that ? "

" The fact," returned the King, "is undoubtedly so." Here he instantly rushed
again into the scroll.

" ' Since the abolishing of the State Lottery all that good feeling has gone, and
nothing but jealousy exists, through the rivalry of each other. Several bill-sticking
companies have started, but have failed. The first party that started a company
was twelve year ago ; iDut what was left of the old school and their dependants
joined together and opposedlhem. And for some time we were quiet again, till a
printer of Hatton Garden formed a company by hiring the sides of houses ; but he
was not supported by the public, and he left his wooden frames fixed up for rent.
The last company that started, took advantage of the New Police Act, and hired
of Messrs. Grissell and Peto the hoarding of Trafalgar Square, and established a
bill-sticking office in Cursitor-street, Chancery-lane, and engaged some of the new
bill-stickers to do their work, and for a time got the half of all our work, and with
such spirit did they carry on their opposition towards us, that they used to give us
in charge before the magistrate, and get us fined ; but they found it so expensive,
that they could not keep it up, for they were always employing a lot of ruffians
from the Seven Dials to come and fight us ; and on one occasion the old bill-
stickers went to Trafalgar Square to attempt to post bills, when they were given in j
custody by the watchman in their employ, and fined at Queen Square five pounds,
as they would not allow any of us to speak in the office ; but when they were gone,
we had an interview with the magistrate, who mitigated the fine to fifteen shillings.
Duringj the time the men were waiting for the fine, this company started off to a
public-house that we were in the habit of using, and waited for us coming back,
where ^ fighting scene took place that beggars description. Shortly after this, the

■■r
MM

Tt,

184

Biil-Stickifi^f^,

Crincipal one day came and shook hands with us, and acknowledged that he hnd
roken up the company, and that he himself had lost five hundred pound in trying
to overthrow us. We then look jiossession of the hoarding in Trafalgar Square ;
but Messrs. Grissell and Pcto would not allow us to post our bills on the said
hoarding without paying them — and from first to last we paid upwards of two
hundred pounds for that hoarding, and likewise the hoarding of the Reform Cliih-
bouse, Tall Mall.'"

His ^fajesty, being now completely out of breath, laid down his scroll (which he
appeared to have finished), pufTcd at his i)ipe, and took some rum-and-water. I
embraced the opportunity of asking how many divisions the art and mystery of
bill-sticking comprisc<l ? He replied, three — auctioneers' bill-sticking, theatrical
bill-sticking, general bill-sticking.

**The auctioneers' porters," said the King, "who do their bill-sticking^, are
mostly respectable and intelligent, and generally weH paid for their work, whether
in town or ciiuntry. The price paid by the principal auctioneers for country work
is nine shillings per day ; that is, seven shillings for day".; work, one shilling for
lodging, and one for pastr Town work is five shillings a day, including paste."

"Town work must be rather hot-work," said I, "if there be many of thos?
fighting scenes that beggar description, among the bill-stickers?"

" Well," replied the King, " ^ an't a stranger, I assure you, to black eyes ; a
bill-sticker ought to know how to handle his fists a bit. As to that row I have
mentioned, that grew out of competition, conductetl in an uncompromising spirit.
Besides a man in a horse-and-shay continually following us about, the company had
a watchman on duty, night and day, to prevent us sticking bills upon the hoarding
in Trafalgar Square. We went there, early one morning, to stick bills and to
black-wash their bills if we were interfered with. We 7aerc interfered with, and I
gave the word for laying on the wash. It raas laid on — pretty brisk — and we were
all taken to Queen Square: but they couldn't fine Wr?. /knew that," — with a
bright smile — "I'd only give directions — I was only the General."

Charmed with this monarch's affability, I inquired if he had ever hired a hoarding
himself.

"Hired a large one," he replied, "opposite the Lyceum Theatre, when the
buildings was there. Paid thirty pound for it ; let out places on it, and called it
•The External Paper Hanging Station.' But it didn't answer. Ah!" said His
Majesty thoughtfully, as he filled the glass, " Bill-stickers have a deal to contend
with. The bill-sticking clause was got into the Police Act by a member of Par-
liament that employed me at his election. The clause is pretty stiff respecting
where bills go ; but Ac didn't mmd where /lis bills went. It was all right enough,
so long as they was /its bills I "

Fearful that I observed a shadow of misanthropy on the King's cheerful face, I
asked whose ingenious invention that was, which I greatly admired, of sticking bills
mider the arches of the bridges.

. "Mine!" said His Majesty. "I was the first that ever stuck a bill imder a
bridge! Imitators soon rose up, of course. — When don't they? But they stuck
'em at low- water, and the tide came and swept the bills clean away, /knew
that ! " The King laughed.

"What maybe the name of that instrument, like an immense fishing-rod," I
inquired, " with which bills are posted on high places ? "

" The joints," returned His Majesty. " Now, we use the joints where formerly
we used ladders — as they do still in country places. Once, when Madame
(Vestris, understood) "was playing in Liverpool, another bill-sticker and me were
at it together on the wall outside the Clarence Dock — me with the joints — him on
a ladder. Lord ! I had my bill up, right over his head, yards above him, ladder

speech from the 'Ihrone.

185

lired a hoarding

fishing-rod," I

and all, while he was crawlinp to his work. The people Roing in and out of the
(locks, stood and laughed ! — It's about thirty years since the joints come in."

"Are there any bill-stickers who can't read?" I took the liberty of inquiring.

"Some," said the King. "Hut they know which is the right side up'ards of
their work. They keep it as it's given out to 'em. I have seen a bill or so stuck
wrong side up'ards. IJut it's very rare."

Our discourse sustained some interruption at this point, by the procession of
cars occasioning a stoppage of about three quarters of a mile in length, as nearly
.IS I could judge. His Majesty, however, entreating me not to be discomposed by
the contingent uproar, smoked with great placidity, and surveyed the firmament.

When we were again in motion, I begged to be informed what was the largest
poster His Majesty had ever seen. The King replied, "A thirty-six sheet poster."
I gathered, also, that there were about a huno "cd and fifty bill-stickers in London,,
ami that His Majesty considered an average liand equal to the posting of one hun-
dred bills (single slieets) in a day. Th.e King was of opinion, that, althougli posters
had much increased in size, they had not increased in number ; as the abolition
of the State Lotteries had occasioned a great falling off, especially in the country.
Over and above which ch.ingc, I bethought myself that the custom of advertising la
newspapers had greatly increased. The completion of many London improve-
ments, as Trafalgar Square (I particularly observed the singularity of His Majesty's
calling ///<// an improvement), the Royal Exchange, &c. , had of late years reduced
the number of advantageous posting-places. Bill-Stickers at present rather confine
tliemselves to districts, than to particular descriptions of work. One man would
strike over Whitechapcl, another would take round Houndsditch, Shoreditch, and
the City Road ; one (the King said) would stick to the Surrey side ; another would
make a beat of the West-end.

His Majesty remarked, with some approach to severity, on the neglect of
delicacy and taste, gradually introduced into the trade by the new school : a
profligate and inferior race of impostors who took jobs at almost any price, to the
(ietrimcnt of the old school, and the confusion of their own misguided employers.
He considered that the trade was overdone with competition, and observed speak-
ing of his subjects, "There are too many of 'em." He believed, still, that things
were a little better than they had been ; adducing, as a proof, the fact that
particular posting places were now reserved, by common consent, for particular
posters ; those places, however, must be regularly occupied by those posters, or,
they lapsed and fell into other hands. It was of no use giving a man a Dntry Lane
bill this week and not next. Where was it to go ? He was of opinion that going
to the expense of putting up your own board on which your sticker could display
your own bills, was the only complete way of posting yourself at the present time ;
but, even to effect this, on payment of a shilling a week to the keepers of steam-
i)oat piers and other such places, you must be able, besides, to give orders for
theatres and public exhibitions, or you would be sure to be cut out by somebody.
His Majesty regarded the passion for orders, as one of the most unappeasable
appetites of human nature. If there were a building, or if there were repairs, going
on, anywhere, you could generally stand something and make it right with the'
foreman of the works ; but, orders would be expected from you, and the man who
could give the most orders was the man who would come off best. There was this
other objectionable point, in orders, that workmen sold tHem for drink, and often
sold them to persons who were likewise troubled with the weakness of thirst :
which led (His Majesty said) to the presentation of your orders at Theatre doors,
by individuals who were "too shakery" to derive intellectual profit from the
entertainments, and who brought a scandal on you. Finally, His Majesty said that
you could hardly put too little in a poster ; what you wanted, was, two or three

^

1

86

" Births, Mrs, Meek, of a Son,''

good crtlch-lines for the eye to rest on — then, leave it alone — and there you
were !

These are tlic minutes of my conversation with His Majesty, as I noted them
down shortly afterwards. I am not aware that I have been betrnyctl into any
alteration or suppression. The manner of the Kin{; was frank in th<' extreme ; and
he seemed lo mc to avoid, at once that sh^ht tendency to rcpetiiion which may
have beeti ol)servcd in the conversation of His Majesty Kinj^CJeorge the Third, and
that slight umler-current of egotism which the curious observer may perhaps delect
in the conversation of Napoleon Bonaparte.

I must do the King the justice to say that it was 1 md not ho, who closed the
dialogue. At this juncture, I l)ecame the subject of a remarkable optical delusion;
til legs of my stotd appeared to me to double up ; the car lo spin round antl
round with great violence ; and a mist lo arise between myself and His Majesty.
In addition to these .sensations, I felt extremely unwell. I refer these unpleasant
effects, cither to the paste with which the posters were affixed to the van : which
may have contained some small portion of ai-senic ; or, to the printer's ink, which
may have contained some c(jually deleterious ingredient. Of this, I cannot be
sure. I am only sure that I was not alTecled, either by the smoke, or the rum-and-
water. 1 was assisted out of the vehicle, in a state of mind which I have only
experienced ifl two other places — I allude to the Pier at Dover, and to the corre-
sponding jxntion of the town of Calais — and sat njion a door-step until I recovered.
The procession had then disaiii)eared. I have since h)oked anxiously for the King
in several other cars, but I have not yet had the happiness of seeing His Majesty.

^^^*\/\rt ^■\/V^*\/X/\iV/X'X/X/X*X/A/V»\.>\/X*X/X/\/\/V/\/V\/X/W/\'\>

•'BIRTHS. MRS. MEEK, OF A SON."

Mv name is Meek. I am, in fact, ^fr. Meek, That son is mine and Mrs.
Meek's. ^Vhen I saw the announcement in the Times, T dropped the paper. I
had put it in, myself, and paid for it, but it looked so noble that it overpowered
me.

As soon as 1 could compose my feelings, I took the paper up to Mrs. Meek's
bedside. *' Maria Jane," said I (I allude to Mrs. Meek), "you are now a public
character." We read the review of our child, several times, with feelings of the
strongest emotion ; and I sent the boy who cleans the boots and shoes, to the office
for fif\een copies. No reduction was made on taking that quantity.

It is scarcely necessary for me to say, that our child had been expected. In
fact, it had been expected, w'ilh comparative confidence, for some months. Mrs.
Meek's mother, who resides willi us — of the name of Bigby — had made every
preparation for its admission to our circle.

I hope and believe I am a quiet man. I will go farther. I kit<no I am a quiet
man. My constitution is tremulous, my voice was never loud, and, in point of
stature, I have been from infancy, small. I have the greatest respect for Maria
Jane's Mama. She is a most remarkable woman. I honour Maria Jane's Mama.
In my opinion she would storm a town, single-handed, with a hearth-broom, and
carry it. I have never known her to yield any point whatever, to mortal man.
She is calculated to terrify the stoutest heart.

Still — but I will not unticipate.

The first intimation I had, of ."iy preparations being in progress, on the part of
"ftlaria Jane's Mama, was one afternoon, several months ago. I came home earlier

*

r

Mrs» Prodgit and M^na Janes Mama.

87

-and there you

than usual from the oflicc, .nnd, proceeding into the dining-room, found nn
obstruction bcliind the door, which prevented it from opening freely. It vis an
obstruction of a soft nature. On looking in, \ found it to he a female.

The female in question stood in the corner behind the door, consun tig Sherry
Wine. From the nutty siuell of that beverage pervading the apartment, I have no
doubt she was consuming a second glassful. She wore a black bonnet of large
dimensions, and was copious in figure. The expnjssiim of her countenance-was
severe and discontented. Tlie words to which she gave utterance on seeing me,
were these, " Oh git along with you, Sir, \{ yon please; me and Mrs. Bigby don't
want no male parties here ! "

That female was Mrs. Protlgit.

I immediately wilh.lrew, of course. I was rather hurt, but I made no remark.
Whether it was that I showed a lownes- of spirits after dinner, in consequence of
feeling that I seemed to intrude, I cannot say. But, Maria Jane's Mama said to
me on lier retiring for the night : in a low distinct voice, and with a look of
reproach that completely subdued me : "George Meek, Mrs. Prodgit is your
wife's nurse ! "

I bear no ill-will towards Mrs. Prodgit. Ts it likely that T, writing this with
tears in my eyes, should be capable of deliberate animosity towards a female, so
essential to the welfare of Maria Jane ? I am willing to admit that Fate may have
been to blame, and not Mrs. Prodgit ; but, it is undeniably true, that the latter
female brought desolation and devastation into my lowly dwelling.

We were hapi)y after her first appearance ; we were sometimes exceedingly so.
But, whenever the parlor door was opened, and '* Mrs. Prodgit I " announced
(and she was very often announced), misery ensued. I could not bear Mrs.
Prodgit's look. I felt that I was far from wanted, and had no business to exist in
Mrs? Prodgit's presence. Between Maria Jane's Mama, and Mrs. Prodgit, there
was a dreadful, secret, understanding — a dark mystery and conspiracy, pointing me
out as a being to be shunned. I appeared to have done something that was evil.
WMienever Mrs. Prodgit called, after dinner, I retired to my dressing-room — where
the temperature is very low, indeed, in the wintry time of the jicar — and sat
looking at my frosty breath as it rose before me, and at my rack of boots ; a
serviceable article of furniture, but never, in my opinion, an exhilarating object.
The length of the councils that were held with Mrs. Prodgit, imder these
circumstances, I will not attempt to describe. I will merel; remark, that Mrs.
Prodgit always consumed Sherry Wine while the deliberations were in progress ;
that they always ended in Maria Jane's being in wretched spirits on the sofa ; and
that Maria Jane's Mama always received me, when I was recalled, with a look of
desolate triumph that too plainly said, " Naiv^ George Meek I You see my child,
Maria Jane, a ruin, and I hope you are satisfied ! "

I pass, generally, over the period that intervened between the day when Mrs.
Prodgit entered her protest against male parties, and the ever-memorable midnight
when I brought her to my unobtrusive home in a cal), with an extremely large box
on the roof, and a bundle, a bandbox, and a basket, between the driver's legs. I
have no objection to Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby, who 1 never
can forget is the parent of Maria Jane) taking entire possession of my unassuming
establishment. In the recesses of my own breast, the thought may linger that a
man in possession cannot be so dreadful as a woman, and that woman Mrs.
Prodgit ; but, I ought to bear a good deal, and I hope I can, and do. Huffing
and snubbing, prey upon my feelings ; but, I can bear them without complaint.
They may tell in the long run ; I may be hustled about, from post to pillar,
beyond my strength ; nevertheless, I wish to avoid giving rise to words in the
family. 4

""""SIM

1 88

" BirfAs. Mrs. Meek, of a Son:'

'If '

The voice of Nature, however, cries aloud in behalf of Augustus George, my
infjtnt son. It is for him that I wish to utter a few plaintive household words. I
am not at all angry ; I am mild — but miserable.

I wish to know why, when my child, Augustus George, was expected in our
circle, a provision of pins was made, as if the little stranger were a criminal who
was to be put to the torture immediately on his arrival, instead of a holy babe ? I
wish to know why haste was made to stick those pins all over his innocent form,
in every direction ? I wish to be informed why light and air are excluded from
Augustus George, like poisons ? Why, I ask, is my unoffending infant so hedged
into a basket-bedstead, with dimity and calico, with miniature sheets and blankets,
that I can only hear him snuffle (and no wonder ! ) deep down under the pink
hood of a little bathing-machine, and can never peruse even so much of his
lineaments as his nose.

Was I expected to be the father of a French Roll, that the bntshes of All
Nations were laid in, to rasp Augustus George ? Am I to l>e told that his
sensitive skin was ever intended by Nature to have rashes brought out upon it, by
the premature and incessant use of those formidable little instruments?

Is my son a Nutmeg, that he is to be grated on the stiff edges of sharp frills ?
Am I the parent of a Muslin boy, that his yielding surface is to be crimped and
small plaited ? Or is my child composed of Paper or of Linen, that impressions of
the finer getting-up art, practised by the laundress, are to be printed off, all over
his soft anns and legs, as I constantly onserve them ? The starch enters his soul ;
who can wonder that he cries ?

Was Augustus George intended to have limbs, or to be born a Torso? I
presume that limbs were the intention, as they are the usual practice. Then, why
are my poor child's limbs fettered and tied up ? Am I to be told that there is any
analogy between Augustus George Meek and Jack Sheppard ?

Analyse Castor Oil at any Institution of Chemistry that may be agreed upon,
and inform me what resemblance, in taste, it bears to that natural provision which
it is at once the pride and duty of Maria Jane, to administer to Augustus George I
Yet, I chaise Mi-s. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) with systematically
forcing Castor Oil on my innocent son, from the first hour of his birth. When
that medicine, in its efficient action, causes internal disturbance to Augustus
George, I charge Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abettec^^ by Mrs. Bigby) with insanely
and inconsistently administering opium to allay "^he storm she has raised ! What
is the meaning of this ?

If the days of Egyptian Mummies are past, how dare Mrs. Prodgit require, for
the use of my son, an amount of flannel and linen that would carpet my humble
roof? Do I wonder that she requires it ? No ! This morning, within an hour,
I beheld this agonising sight. I beheld my son — Augustus George — in Mrs.
Prodgit's hands, and on Mrs. Prodgit's knee, being dressed. He was at the
moment, comparatively speaking, in a state of nature ; having nothing on, but an
extremely short shirt, remarkably disproportionate to the length of his usual outer
garments. Trailing from Mrs. Prodgit s lap, on the floor, was a long narrow
roller or bandage — I should say of several yards in extent. In this, I saw Mrs.
Prodgit tightly roll the body of my unoffending infant, turning him over and over,
now presenting his unconscious face upwards, now the back of his bald head, until
the unnatural feat was accomplished, and the bandage secured by a pin, which I
have every reason to believe entered the body of my only child. In this tourniquet,
he passes the present phase of his existence. Can I know it, and smile !

I fear I have been betrayed into expressing myself warmly, but I feel deeply.
Not for myself ; for Augustus George. I dare not interfere. Will any one ? Will
any publication ? Any doctor ? Any parent ? Any body ? I do not complain

Benjamin Franklin a failure.

189

that Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) entirely alienates Maria
Jane's affections from me, and interposes an impassable barrier between us. I' do
not complain of being made of no account. I do not want to be of any account.
Hut, Augustus (ieorge is a production of Nature (I cannot think otherwise), and I
chiim ihat he should be treated with some remote reference to Nature. In my
opinion, Mrs. Prodgit is, from first to last, a convention and a superstition. Are
all the faculty afraid of Mrs. Prodgit ? If not, why don't they take her in hand
and improve her ?

P.S. Maria Jane's Mama boasts of her own knowledge of the subject, and says
she brought up seven children besides Maria Jane. Hut how do / know that she
might not have brought them up much better? Maria Jane herself is far from
strong, and is subject to headaches, and nervous indigestion, besides which, I
learn from the statistical tables that one child in five dies within the first year of
its life ; and one child in three, within the fifth. That don't look as if we could
never improve in ihese particulars, I think I

P. P.S. Augustus George is in convulsions.

LYING AWAKE.
— ♦ —

"My uncle lay with his eyes half closed, and his nightcap drawn almost down
to his nose. His fancy was already wandering, and began to mingle up the
present scene with the crater of Vesuvius, the French Opera, the Coliseum at
Rome, Dolly's Chop-house in London, and all the farrago of noted places with
which the brain of a traveller is crammed ; in a word, he was just falling asleep."

Thus, that delightful writer, Washington Irving, in his Tales of a Traveller.
But, it happened to me the other night to be lying : not with my eyes half closed,
but with my eyes wide open ; not with my nightcap drawn almost down to my
nose, for on sanitary principles I never wear a nightcap : but with my hair pitch-
forked and touzled all over the pillow ; not just falling asleep by any means, but
glaringly, persistently, and obstinately, broad awake. Perhaps, with no scientific
intention or invention, I was illustrating the theory of the Duality of the Brain ;
perhaps one part of my brain, being wakeful, sat up to watch the other part which
was sleepy. Be that as it may, something in me was as desirous to go to sleep as
it possibly could be, but something else in me would not go to sleep, and was as
obstinate as George the Third.

Thinking of George the Third — for I devote this paper to my train of thoughts
as I lay awake : most people lying awake sometimes, and having some interest in
the subject — put me in mind of Benjamin Franklin, and so Benjamin
Franklin's paper on the art of procunng pleasant dreams, which would seem
necessarily to include the art of going to sleep, came into my head. Now, as I
often used to read that paper when I was a very small boy, and as I recollect
everything I read then, as perfectly as I forget everything I read now, I quoted
** Get out of bed, beat up and turn your pillow, shake the bed-clothes well with at
least twenty shakes, then throw the bed open and leave it to cool ; in the mean-
while, continuing undrest, walk about your chamber. When you begin to feel
the cold air unpleasant, then return to your bed, and you will soon fall asleep, and
your sleep will be sweet and pleasant." Not a bit of it ! I performed the whole
ceremony, and if it were possible for me to be more saucer-eyed than I was before,
that was the only result that came of it.

190

l.yifii^ AiVijkt'.

J ';'

^1

^li.

F.\(vpt Nlfijrnrrt. The (wo qmMntions from Wn^hinpton Tivinq; nrift Henjamin
Fmnklin inny Imvo pu( it in n\y hf^^*! Ity nn Amriirnn nsRociitlinn of Ideas; Imi
thorc I was, nn<l lh(< llorsc-slioo K;\II was llumdnin^ and tuinMin^ in my ry<"^
and cars, an<l the very rainbows that I h^fl tipon the sniay when I loally diil la^l
hioU upon it, wore luMutiful to sec. The nij;hl-Ii^^ht hcinmpnie as plain, however,
M\i\ sleep sceniinj; to he niany thousand miles further o(V than Niaf^ara, I made up
my mind to think a little about Sleep ; which I no s<»oner did than I whirled oil
in spite of myself to Dniry 1 ane Theatie, and there saw a ^reat actor and dear
Iticnd <^f mine (whom I had been tlunkinp; ol in the day) playing Macbeth, and
heard him apostniphisin^ •'the death of each day's life," as I have heard him
matiy a ffmc, in the days that are jjone.

Ihit, Sleep. 1 r.vrVthitik about .Sleep. T am dclcrmitied to think (this is the
Wciy 1 went on) .ilnnit Sleep. I nuist hoUl the word Sleep, li^ht and fast, (tr 1
shall be ofl" a( a tan^etit in half a second. 1 feel myself unaccountably straying;,
alrcadv, into Clare Market. Slct^p. It would be curious, as illustratin;; the
e(]nalitv ol sleep, (o iuipiire how n»any<if its phenomena arc connuon t<) all classes,
to all d(\i;rccs of wealth and poverty, to every ^rade of etlucalion anil i{;norancc.
Here, tor example, is her ^iajcsty (^)vun'n Victoria ii\ her palace, this present
blessed ni^ht. and here is Winkini; Charley, a stmdy vai;rant, in one ol her
Atajesty's iails. Her Majesty has fallen, many thousands of times, from that same
Tower, which / claim ;i rij^hl io tunibic oil" now and then. So has Winkinj;
Charley, llcr Majesty in her sleep has opened o\- iMorop\ed rnrliamcnt, or has
held a Hrawinj;; Ko(>ni, attired in some very scanty dress, the delicicncies and im-
proprieties o\' which have caused her jjrcat uneasiness. I, in my decree, have
suflercd unspeakable agitation o'i miiid from takiiu^ the chair at a public dinner at
the London Tavi^n in niy ni};ht -clothes, which not all the courtesy of my kind
friend and host Mr. IUvhk emild ]HMsuavle me were quite adapted to the occasion.
Winkinij Charley has been rcj^catedly tried ii\ a worse condition. Her Majesty
is no stranj^er to a vault or linnament. of a sort of tloorcloth, with an imlistinct
mttcm distantly resembling eyes, which «Kcasion,ally obtrudes itself on her rejiose.
Neither am 1. Neither is \Vinkini; C'harley. It is quite common to all three
of us to skim alontj with airy strides a httle above the ground ; nlso to hold, with
the deepest interest, dialogues with various people, all reprcsented by ourselves ;
find to he .'\t our wit's end to know what tlicy are going to tell us ; and to be
indescrilubly astonishe<l by the secrets they disclose. It is ]irobablc that we have
all three committed murdei^s and hiilden Innlics. It is pretty certain that we have
all dcsi>erate1y v anted to cry out, and have had no voice ; that wc have all gone
to the play and not bcx'n able to get in; that we have all dreamed much more of
CUV youth than of our later lives ; that— I have lost it ! The thread's broken.

And up 1 go. 1, lying here with the night-light before me, uji 1 go, for no
reason on earth that I can find out, and drawn by no links that are visible to mc,
up the Great Saint Bernard ! I have lived in Switzerland, and rambled among the
mountains; but, why I should go there now, and why up the Clreal Saint Bernard
in preference to any other mountain, 1 have no idea. As I lie here broad awake,
and W'ith every sense so sharpened that I can distinctly hear distant noises
inaudible to me at another time, I make that journey, as I really did, on the same
summer day, with the same happy party — ah ! two since dead, I gi ieve to think — and
there is the s;xme track, with the same black wooden arms to point the way, and
there are the same storm -refuges here and there ; and there is the same snow
falling It the top, .and there are the same frosty mists, and there is the same
intensely cold convent vnth its mdnagerie smell, and the same breed of dogs fast
dying out, and the same breetl of jolly young monks whom I mourn to know as
humbugs, and the s.xme convent parlour with its piano and the sitting round the

Ramfilinj^ Night lljoughts.

191

•X nii'l nouinmiti
•11 of Idons ; I ml
ilinjj ill my rvcs
I really (li<l \\\k\
plain, li(t\v(»v(M.
f,'ara, I nia(|(> up
in I wliirlod dll
I ailor and doai
H MailuMli, mill
have lioani liiiu

Iiink (lliis is tlic

aiiil (asl, Of I

intahly slrayinj;.

illiistratinj; llu-

)n lo all classes,

ami if^iiorniu c.

'(', this prrsonf

ill oiic oC luT

from (liat sanu^

0 lias Wiiikiii};

rliaiucnl, or lias

Mcncics ami im-

ly (lo^roc, liavo

public ilinnor at

osy of my kind

to I lie occasion.

Her iVIajcsty

h an indistinct

on her repose.

on to all three

0 to hold, with

1 by ourselves ;
us ; and to be
e that \vc have

that \vc have
have all };onc
much more of
s broken.

1 i;o, for no
visible to me,
ed among the
Saint Bernard
broad awake,
distant noises
, on the same
to think — and
the way, and
: same snow

is the same
d of dogs fast
n to know as
ing round the

I— -

(ire, and the same «;iipp(M, and the «;anip lonr night in n cell, and the •tfttnc nrlght
IVesli morning when going out into the highly rarefied air was like a plunge info an
icy bath. Now, see liere what eomcs al(»ng ; aii'l why doe=i this thing stalk lnf()
my mind on the top of a Swi-^s inoiiiktain f

It is a figure thai I once saw, just after dark, elialkcl upon a door in a little back
Line near a country church my first church. How young a child \ may have been
Hi the lime I don't know, but it horrified me sf) intensely - in connexion with the
(hurchyard, I suppose, for it smokes a pipe, and has a big hat with each of its ears
slicking out in a hori/onlal line uii<ler the brim, and is not in itself more
oppressive than a moiilh fnun car to ear, a pair of goggle eyes, and hands like two
btnuhes of carrots, five in each, can make it -that II is si ill vaguely alartning to
tue to recall (as I have oflen done belore, lying awake) the running home, the
looking behind, tin* horror, of i| ^ following me; though whether disconnected
Irom the <lo(U", u\ do(U" and ail, I can't say, and perhaps never could. It lays a
disagreeable train. I iuuhI resolve t(; think of somclliing on the voluntary
principle.

The balloon ascents of this last season. They will do to think about, while I
lie awake, as well aB anylhing else. I must hold them tight lliough, f')r \ feel
them sliding away, and in their stead are the Mannings, husband and wife,
hanging on the top «)f Ilorsemongcr I-aiie Jail. Fn connexion with which dismal
s|ieclacle, I recall this curious fantasy of the mind. That, having beheld that
execution, and having left those two forms dangling on the lop of the entrance
gateway — the man's, Ji limp, loose suit of clothes as if the "man had gone out
of them ; the woman's, a line shape, so elaborately cnrsefefl and artfully dressed,
that it was (juite unchanged in ils trim appearance as if slowly swung from side
to side — I never could, by my ultcnnost efforts, ff>r some weeks, present the
outsitlc of that prison to myself (which the terrible impression I had receiv<;d
continually obliged me t(» do) without |)resenfing it with the two figures still
hanging in the morning air. Until, strolling jiast the gjfxmiy place one night,
when the street was deserted and quiet, ancl actually seeing that the bfidics were
not there, my fancy was persuade<l, as it were, to fake tliein down and bury them
within the precincts of the jail, where they have lain ever since.

The l)alloon ascents of last season. Let mc reckon them up. Thcri^ were the
horse, the bull, the parachute, and the tumbler hanging on — chiefly by his toes, I
believe — below the car. Very wrong, indeed, and decidedly to be stopped. But,
in connexion with these and similar (langerou.s exhibitions, it strikes mc that that
portion of the public whom they entertain, is unjustly reproached. Their pleasure
IS in the difficulty ovetcome. They arc a public of great faith, and are ouite
confident that the gentleman will not fall off the horse, or the lady (jff the bull or
out of the parachute, and that the tumbler has a firm hold with his toes. Tlicy da
not go to see the adventurer vanquished, but triumphant. There is no parallel in
public combats between men and beasts, because nobody can answer for the
particular beast — unless it were always the same beast, in which case it would be
a mere stage-show, which the same public would go in the same state of mind to
sec, entirely believing in the brute being beforehand .safely subdued by the man.
That they are not accustomed to calculate hazards and dangers with any nicety,
we may know from their rash exposure of themselves in overcrowded steamboats,
and unsafe conveyances and places of all kinds. And I cannot help thinkiog that
instead of railing, and attributing savage motives to a people naturally well
disposed and humane, it is better to teach them, and lead them argiimentatively
and reasonably — for they are very reasonable, if you will discuss a matter with
them — to more considerate and wise conclusions.

This is a disagreeable intrusion ! Here is a man with his throat cut, dashing

\

^^r^

-^m

as

f^'

1

19»

Lying Axvukc.

tow.inls mc as 1 lie awake ! A recollection of an old story of a kinsman of mine,
>vlu), K^'inj; home one foj;f;y winter ni^ht to Ilampstead, when London was much
smaller and the road lonesome, suddenly encountered such a fij^ure rushing ])ast
him, and ]>resently two keepci"s from a madhouse in jnirsuit. A very unpleasant
creature indeed, to come into my mind unhidden, as I lie awake.

— The balloon ascents of last season. I must return to the balloons. Why
did the bleedlnj; man start out of them ? Never mind ; if I inquire, ho will be
back a(;ain. The balloons. This particular public have inherently a great
pleasure in the contemplation of jihysical difliculties overcome ; mainly, as I take
It, because the lives of a large majority of them are exceedingly monotonous and
real, and further, are a struggle against continual diflTicultics, and further still,
because anything in the form of .accidental injury, or any kind of illness or
disability is so very serious in their own sphere. I will explain this seeming
paradox of mine. Take the case of a Christmas ]\antomime. Surely noboily
sujiposes that the young mother in the pit who falls into fits of Laughter when the
baby is boiled or sat upon, would be at all diverted l)y such an occurrence off the
stage. Nor is the decent workm.an in the gallery, who is transported beyond the
ignorant present by the delight with which he sees a stout gentleman pushed out
of a two pair of stairs window, to be slandered by the suspicion that he would be
in the least entertained by such a spectacle in any street in London, I'aris, or New
York. It always appears to me that the secret of this enjoyment lies in the
temporary suj^eriority to the common hazards and mischances of life ; in seeing
casu.alties, attended when they really occur with bodily and mental suffering, tears,
and poverty, happen through a very rough sort of jioetry without the least harm
being done to any one — the i>retence ol distress in a pantomime being so broadly
humorous as to be no pretence at all. Much as in the comic fiction I can under-
stand the mother with a very vulnemble baby at home, greatly relishing the
invulnerable baby on the stage, so in the Cremorne reality I can understand the
mason who is always liable to fall off a scaffold in his Working jacket and to be
carried to the hospital, having an infinite admiration of the radiant personage in
snangles who goes into the clouds upon a bull, or upside down, and who, he takes
if for granted— not reflecting upon the thing — has, by uncommon skill and
dexterity, conquered such mischances as those to which he and his acquaintance
are continually exposed.

I wish the Morgue in Paris would not come here as I lie awake, with its ghastly
beds, and the swollen saturated clothes hanging up, and the water dripping,
dripping all day long, upon that other swollen saturated something in the corner,
like a heap of crushed over-ripe figs that I have seen in Italy ! And this detest-
able Morgue comes back again at the head of a procession of forgotten ghost
stories. This will never do. I must think of something else as I lie awake ; or,
like that sagacious animal in the United States who recognised the colonel who was
such a dead shot, I am a gone 'Coon. What shall I think of ? The late brutal
assaults. Very good subject. The late bnital assaults.

(Though whether, supposing I should see, here before me as I lie awake, the
awful phantom described in one of those ghost stories, who, with a head-dress of
shroud, was always seen looking in through a certain glass door at a certain dead
hour — whether, in s'ch a case it would be the least consolation to me to know on
philosophical grounds that it was merely my imagination, is a question I can't help
asking myself by the way. )

The late brutal assaults. I strongly question the expediency of advocating the
revival of whipping for those crimes. It is a natural and generous impulse to be
indignant at the perpetration of inconceivable brutality, but I doubt the whipping
panacea gravely. Not in the least regard or pity for the criminal, whom I hold in

:«t«i>^tMiJ-

Obliged to get up.

>93

f\r lower estimation than a mad wolf, hut in consideration for the general tone and
feeling, which is verymuch improved since the whippingtimcs. It is bad for a people
to l)C familiarised with such punishments. When the whin went out of Hridowell,
nnd ceased to he flourished at the carl's tail and at the whipping-post, it hegan to
fade out of madhouses, and workhouses, and schools and families, and to give place
to a hetter system evervwhcre, than cruel driving. It would he hasty, hccause a
fow brutes may he inacfequately punished, to revive, in any aspect, what, in so many
aspects, society is hardly yet happily rid of. Thewhi|> is a very contagious kind of
tinng, and difficult to confine within one set of hounds. Utterly abolish punish-
ment by fine — a barbarous device, (juite as much otit of date as wager by battle, hut
particularly connected in the vulgar mind with this class of offence — at least cpiad-
niple the term of imjirisonment for aggravated assaults — and above all let us, in
such cases, have no I'et Prisoning, vain glorifying, strong soup, and roasted meats,
but hard work, and one uncha ^ing and uncompromising dietary of bread and
water, well or ill ; and we shall do much better than by going down into the dark
to gropcfor the whip among the rusty fragments of the rack, and the branding iron,
and the chains and gibbet from the public roads, and the weights that pressed men
to death in the cells of Newgate.

I had proceeded thus far, when I found I had been lying awake so long that the
very dead hegan to wake too, and to crowd into my thoughts most sorrowfully.
Therefore, I resolved to lie awake no more, hut to get up and go out for a night
walk — which resolution was an acceptable relief to me, as I dare say it may prove
now to a great many more.

/X'VX'VX/X^^. * WV ^ A/X ' v \ 'X'^ W V\/\* \/ VVVS/^ /wx/vx/x/^

THE POOR RELATION'S STORY. >V'n'

He was very reluctant to take precedence of so many respected memhers of the
family, by beginning the round of stories they were to relate as they sat in a goodly
circle by the Christmas fire; and he modestly suggested that it would he more
correct if "John our esteemed host" (whose health he begged to drink) would
have the kindness to begin. For as to himself, he said, he was so little used to

lead the way thot really But as they all cried out here, that he must begin,

and agreed with ere voice that he might, could, would, and should begin, he left
off rubbing his hands, and took his legs out from under his arm-chair, and did
begin.

I have no doubt (said the poor relation) that I shall surprise the assembled
members of our family, and particularly John our esteemed host to whom we are
so much indebted for the great hospitality with which he has this day entertained
us, by the confession I am going to make. But, if you do me the honor to be
surprised at anything that falls from a person so unimportant in the family as I am,
I can only say that I shall be scrupulously accurate in all I relate.

I am not what I am supposed to be. I am quite another thing. Perhaps before
I go further, I had better glance at what I atn supposed to he.

It is supposed, unless I mistake — the assembled members of our family will
correct me if I do, which is very likely (here the poor relation looked mildly about
him for contradiction) ; that I am nobody's enemy but my own. That I never
met with any particular success in anything. That I failed in business because I
was unbusiness-like and credulous — in not being prepared for the interested designs
of my partner. That I failed in love, because I was ridiculously trustful — in think-

o

194

The Poor Relation's Story.

m

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t :

'hig it impossiMe that Christiana couUl deceive me. That I failed in my expectations
from my uncle Chill, on account of not being as sharp as he could have wished in
worldly matters. That, through life, I have been rather put upon and disappointcil
in a general way. That I am at present a bachelor of between fifty-nine and sixty
years of age, living on a limited income in the form of a (piarterly allowance, to
which I SCO that John our esteemed host wishes me to make no furtner allusion.

The supposition as to my present pursuits and habits is to the following effect.

I live in a lodging in the Clapham Road — a very clean back room, in a very
respectable house — where I am expected not to be at home in the day-time, unless
poorly ; and which I usually leave in the morning at nine o'clock, on pretence of
going to business. I take my breakfast — my roll and butter, and my half-pint of
coffee — at the old established coffee-shop near Westminster Bridge ; and then I
go into the City — I don't know why — and sit in Oarraway's Coffee House, and on
Change, and walk about, and look into a few offices and counting-houses where
some of my relations or accpiaintance are so good as to tolerate me, and where I
stand by the fire if the weather happens to be cold. I get through the day in this
way until five o'clock, and then I dine : at a cost, on the average, of one and
threepence. Having still a litttle money to spend on my evening's entertainment,
1 look into the old-established coffee-shop as I go home, and take my cup of tea,
and perhaps my bit of toast. So, as the large hand of the clock makes its way round
to the morning hour again, I make my way round to the Clapham Road again, and
go to bed when I get to my lodging — fire being expensive, and being objected to by
the family on account of its giving trouble and making a dirt.

Sometimes, one of my relations or acquaintances is so obliging as to ask me to
dinner. Those are holiday occasions, and then I generally walk in the Park. I
am a solitary man, and seldom walk with anybody. Not that I am avoided
because I am shabby ; for I am not at all shabby, having always a very good suit
of black on (or rather Oxford mixture, which has the appearance ot black and
wears much better) ; but I have got into a habit of speaking low, and being
rather silent, and my spirits are not high, and I am sensible that I am not an attrac-
tive companion.

The only exception to this general rule is the child of my fust cousin, Little Frank.
I have a particular affection for that child, and he takes very kindly to me. He is
a diffident boy by nature ; and in a crowd he is soon run over, as I may say, and
forgotten. lie and I, however, get on exceedingly well. I have a fancy that the
poor child will in time succeed to my peculiar position in the family. We talk but
little ; still, we understand each other. We walk about, hand in hand ; and with-
out much speaking he knows what I mean, and T know what he means. When he
was very little indeed, I used to take him to the windows of the toy-shops, and
show him the toys inside. It is surprising how soon he found out that I would
have made him a great many presents if I had been in circumstances to do it.

Jjttle Frank and I go and look at the outside of the Monument — he is very fond
of the Monument — and at the Bridges, and at all the sights that are free. On two
of my birthdays, we have dined on a-la-mode beef, and gone at half-price to the
play, and been deeply interested. I was once walking with him in Lombard Street,
which we often visit on account of my having mentioned to him that there are
great riches there — he is very fond of Lombard Street — when a gentleman said to
me as he passed by, **Sir, your little son has dropped his glove." I assure you, if
you will excuse my remarking on so trivial a circumstance, this accidental mentiin
of the child as mine, quite touched my heart and brought the foolish tears into
my eyes.

When little Frank is sent to school in the country, I shall be very much at a loss
what to do with myself, but I have the intention of walking down there once a

His Castle*

>95

month and seeing him on a half holiday. I am told he will then be at play upon
ilic lleatli ; and if my visits should l)e objected to, as unsettling the child, I can
^c■c• him from a distance without hi:; seeing me, and walk back again. His mother
comes of a highly genteel family, and rather disapproves, 1 am aware, of our being
too much together. I know that I am not calculated to improve his retiring dis-
position ; but I think he v.ould miss me beyond the feeling of the moment if we
were wholly separated.

When I die in the Cla|>ham Road, I shall not leave much more in this world
than I shall take out of il ; but, I happen io have a miniature of a bright-faced
boy, with a curling head, and an open shirt-frill waving down his bosom (my
mcjther had it taken for me, but I can't believe that it was ever like), which will
l)c worth nothing to sell, and which I shall beg may be given to Frank. I have
written my dear boy a little letter with it, in which I have told him that I felt very
>orry to part from him, though bound to confess that I knew no reason why I
should remain here. 1 have given him some short advice, the best in my power,
to take warning of the consequences of being nobody's enemy but his own ; and I
have endeavoured to comfort him for what I fear he will consider a bereavement,
hy pointing out to him, that I was only a superfluous something to every one but
him ; and that having by some means failed to find a place in this great assembly,
I am better out of it.

Such (said the poor relation, clearing his throat and beginni;ig to speak a little
louder) is the general impression about me. Xow, it is a remarkable circumstance
which forms the aim and purpose of my story, that this is all wrong. This is not
my life, and these are not my habits. .1 do not even live ill the Clapham Road.
Comparatively speaking, I am very seldom there. I reside, mostly, in a — I am
almost ashamed to say the word, it sounds so full of pretension — in a Castle. I
do not mean that it is an old baronial habitation, but still it is a building always
known to every one by the name of a Castle. In it, I preserve the particulars of
my history ; they run thus :

It was when I first took John Spatter (who had been my clerk) into partnership,
and when I was still a y( ng man of not more than five-and-twenty, residing in
the house of my uncle Chill, from whom I had considerable expectations, that I
ventured to propose to Christiana. I had loved Christiana a long time. She was
very beautiful, and very winning in all respects. I rather mistrusted her widowed
mother, who I feared was of a plotting and mercenary turn of mind ; but, I thought
as well of her as I could, for Christiana's sake. I never had loved any one l>ut
Christiana, and she had been all the world, and O far more than all the worhl, .o
me, from our childhood !

Christiana accepted me with her mother's consent, and I was rendered very
happy indeed. My life at my Uncle Chill's was of a spare dull kind, and my
garret chamber was as dull, and bare, and cold, as an upper prison room in some
stern northern fortress. But, having Christiana's love, I wanted nothing upon
earth. I would not have changed my lot with any human being.

Avarice was, unhappily, my Uncle Chill's master-vice. Though he was rich,
he pinched, and scraped, and clutched, and lived miserably. As Christiana had
no fortune, I was for some time a little fearful of confessing our engagement to
him ; but, at length I wrote him a letter, saying how it all truly was. I put it
into his hand one night, on going to bed.

As I came down stairs next morning, shivering in the cold December air ; colder
in my uncle's unwarmed house than in the street, where the winter sun did some-
times shine, and which was at all events enlivened by cheerful faces and voices
passing along ; I carried a heavy heart towards the long, low breakfast-room in
which my uncle sat. It was a large room with a small fire, and there was a great

196

The Poor Relation's Story.

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bay window in it wljich the rain had marked in the nijjht as if with the tears of
lioiisflcs'i people. It stared upon a raw yard, with a cracked stone pavement, and
some rusted iron railings half uprooted, whence an ugly out-building that had once
been a dissecting-room (in the time of the great surgeon who had mortgaged the
house to my uncle), stared at it.

We rose so early always, that at that time of the year we breakfasted by candlo-
light. When I went into the room, my uncle was so contracted by the cold, and
so huddled together in his chair behind the one dim candle, that I did not see
liim \mtil I was close to thetal)le.

A'. I hell! out my han<l to him, he caught up his stick (being infirm, he always
walked nl)out the hou^c with a stick), and made a blow at n;e, and said, " Vou
fool ! "

" Uncle," I returned, " I didn't expect you to be so angry as this." Nor had I
expected it, though he was a hard and angry old man.

" You didn't expect ! " said he ; "when did vou ever expect ? When did you
ever calculate, or look forward, you contemptible dog?"

" These are hartl words, uncle ! "

•' I lard words ? Featliers, to pelt such an idiot as you with," said he. **IIcrc !
JJetsy Snap ! Look at him ! "

]Jetsy Snap was a withered, hard-favoured, yellow old woman — our only
domestic — always employed, at this time of the morning, in rubbing my uncle's
legs. As my uncle adjured her to look at me, he put his lean grip on the crown
of her head, she kneeling beside him, and turned her face towards me. An
involuntary thought connecting them both with the Dissecting Room, as it must
oftcMi have been in the surgeon's time, passed across my mind in the midst of my
anxiety.

"Look at the snivelling n Iksop ! '* said my uncb. "Look at the baby!
This is the gentleman who, people say, is nobody's enemy but his own. This is
the gentleman who can't say no. This is the gentleman who was making such
large profits in his business that he must needs take a partner, t'other day. This is
the gentleman who is going to marry a wife without a penny, and who falls into
the hands of Jezabels who are speculating on my death ! "

I knew, now, how great my uncle's rage was ; for nothing short of his being
almost beside himself would have induced, him to utter that concluding word,
which lie held in such repugnance that it was never spoken or hinted at before him
on any account.

" On my death," he repeated, as if he were c'efying me by defying his own
abhorrence of the word. " On my death— death — Death ! But I'll spoil the
speculation. Eat your last ander this roof, you feeble wretch, and may it choke
you ! "

You may suppose that I had not much appetite for the breakfast to which I was
bidden in these terms ; but, I took my accustomed seat. I saw that I was
repudiated henceforth by my uncle ; still I could bear that very well, possessing
Christiana's heart.

He emptied his basin of bread and milk as usual, only that he took it on his
knees with his chair turned away from the table where I sat. When he had done,
he carefully snuffed out the candle ; and the cold, slate-coloured, miserable day
looked in upon us.

" Now, Mr. Michael," said he, " before we part, I should like to have a word
with these ladies in your presence."

"As you will, sir," I returned ; "but you deceive yourself, and wrong us,
cruelly, if you suppose that there is any feeling at stake in this contract but pure,
di:>interebted, faithful love." ^

Popular errors (oncerning him.

[97

Mc. "Here!

have a word

To this, he only replied, •• You lie ! " and not one other word.

\Ve went, through half-lhawcd snow and half-frozen rain, to tlie house w'.icrc
Christiana and her mother lived. My uncle knew them very well. i hty were
sittinfj at their breakfast, and were surprised to see us at that hour.

" Your servant, ma'am," said my uncle to the mother, '* You divine tne | ur-
pose of my visit, I dare say, ma'am. I understand there is a worlu of pure,
disinterested, faithful love cooped up here. T am h.ii>py to brinj; it all «t wants, to
niake it complete. I bring you your son-in-huv, ma am — and you, your husbanti,
miss. The gentleman is a perfect stranger to uic, but I wish hnn joy of hi^ wise
bargain."

ile snarled at mc as he went out, and I never saw him agnin.

It is altogether a mistake (continued the poor relation) to suppose that my
dear Christiana, over-persuaded and influenced by her mother, married a rich n\;iM,
the dirt from whose carriage wheels is often, in these changed times, tlirown upon
mc as she rides by. No, no. She married me.

The way we came to be married rather sooner than ve intended, was this. I
took a frugal lodging and was saving and planning for her sake, when, one day,
she spoke to me with great earnestness, and said :

" Aly dear Michael, I have given you my heart. I have said that 1 lovcil you,
and I have pledged iryself to be your wife. I am as much yours through all
changes of good and evil as if we had been married on the day when such worth
])assed between us. I know you well, and know that if we should be separ.ate<l
and our union broken off, your whole life would be shadowed, and all that might,
even now, be stronger in your character for the conflict with tlic world would then
be weakened to the shadow of what it is ! "

" Uod help me, Christiana ! " said I. *• You speak the truth."

*' Michael ! " said she, putting her hand in mine, in all maidenly devoti 1, '* let
us keep apart no longer. It is but for me to say that I can live consented upon
such means as you have, and I well know you are happy. I say so from my htv»rt.
Strive no more alone ; let us strive together. My dear Michael, it is not right that
1 should keep secret from you what you do not suspect, but what distresses my
whole life. My mother : without considering that what you have lost, you have
lost for me, and on the assurance of my faith : sets her heart on riches, and urges
another suit upon me, to my misery. I cannot bear this, for to bear it is to b«:
untrue to you, I would rather share your struggles than look on. I want no
Ijetter home than you can give me. I know that you will aspire and labor with u
higlier courage if I am wholly yours, and let it be so when you will I '

I was blest indeed, that day, and a new workl opened to me. We wore
married in a very little while, and I took my wife to our happy home. That wns
the beginning of the residence I have spoken of ; the Castle we have ever since
inhabited together, dates from that time. All our children have been born in it.
Our fust child- now married — was a little girl, whom we called Christiana. Ilcr
son is so like Little Frank, that I hardly know which is which.

The current impression as to my partner's dealings with me is also ([uile
erroneous. He did not begin to treat me coldly, as a poor simpleton, when my
uncle and I so fatally quarrellqd ; nor did he afterwards gradually possess himself
of our business and edge me out. On the contrary, he behaved to mc with the
utmost good faith and honor.

Matters between us took this turn :— On the d.iy of my separation from my
uncle,* and even before the arrival at our counting-house of my trunks (which he
sent after me, not carriage paid), I went down to our room of business, on our

193

The Poor Rdatuvi's Story..

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little wliarf, ovcrlookinp; the river ; and there T told John Spatter what had
fia])pcned. John did not say, in reply, that rich old relatives were palpable facts,
and that love and sentiment were moonshine and fiction, lie addressed nie
thus :

** Michael," said John, " we were at school together, and T generally had tlic
knack of getting on better than you, and making a higher reputation."

"You had, John," I returned.

*' Although, said John, "I borrowed your books and lost them ; borrowed your
pockel-nioiiey, and never repaid it ; got you to buy my damaged knives at a higher
price than I had given for them new ; and to own to the windows that I had
broken."

"AH not worth mentioning, John Spatter," said I, "but certaiidy true."

"When you were first established in this infant business, which promises to
thrive so well," pursued John, "I came to you, in my search for almost any
employment, and you made me your clerk."

"Still not worth mentioning, my dear John Spatter," said I ; "still, equally
true."

** And finding that T had a good head for business, and that I was really useful
to the business, you did not like; to retain me in that capacity, and thought it an act
of justice soon to make me your partner."

"Still less worth mentioning than any of those ether little circumstances you
have recalled, John Spatter," said T ; " for I was, and am, sensible of your merits
and my deficiencies."

"Now, my good friend," said John, drawing my arm through his, ns he had
had a habit ot doing at school ; while two vessels outside the windows of our
counting-house — which were shaped like the stern windows of a ship — went
lightly down the river with the tide, as Jt)hn and I might then be sailing away in
*3| company, and in trust and confidence, on our voyage of life ; "let there, under
these friendly circumstances, be a right understanding between us. You are too
easy, Michael. You are nobody's enemy but youv own. If I were to give you
that damaging character among our connexion, with a shrug, and a shake of the
liead, and a sigh ; and if I were further to abuse the trust you place in me "

" But you never will abuse it at all, John," I observed.

" Never!" said he ; " but I am putting a case — I say, and if I ^<'ere further to
abuse that trust by keeping this piece of our common affairs in the dark, and this
Other piece in the light, and again this other piece in the twilight, and so on, I
should strengthen my strength, and weaken your weakness, day by d.ay, until at
last I found myself on the high road to fortune, and you left behind on some bare
common, a hopeless number of miles out of the way " .

** Exactly so," said I.

"To prevent this, Michael,'" said John Spatter, "or the remotest chance of this,
there must be perfect openness between us. Nothing must be concealed, and we
must have but one interest."

" My dear John Spatter," I assured him, " that is precisely what I mean."

" And when you are too easy," pursued Jolm, his face glowing with friendship,
" yovi must allow me to prevent that imperfection in your nature from being taken
advantage of, by any one ; you must not expect me to humour it "

" My dear John Spatter," I interrupted, " I dotit expect you to humour it. I
want to correct it."

"And I, too," said John.

" Exactly so ! " cried I. "We both have the same end in view ; and, honorably
seeking it, and fully tnisting one another, and having but one interest, ours will
be a prosperous and happy partnership."

V^

:enerally had tlio

The Situation of his Castle.

99

"I am sure of it!" returned John Spatter. And wc shook hands most
afTectionately.

I took John home to my Castle, and wc had a very happy day. Our partnership
throve well. My friend and partner supplied what I wanted, as I had foreseen
tliat he would ; and by improving both the business and myself, amply acknow-
ledged any little rise in life to which I had helped him.

I am not (said the poor relation, looking at the fire as he slowly rubbed his
hands), very rich, for I never cared to be that ; but I have enough, and am above
all moderate wants and anxieties. My Castle is not a splendid place, but it is
very comfortable, and it has a warm and cheerful air, and is quite a picture of
I lome.

Our eldest girl, who is very like her mother, married John Spatter's eldest son.
Our two families are closely united in other ties of attachment. It is very
pleasant of an evening, when we arc all assembled together — which frequently
happens — and when John and I talk over old times, and the one interest there has
always been between us.

I really do not know, in my Castle, what loneliness is. Some of our children
or grandchildren are always al)out it, and the young voices of my descendants are
delightful -O, how delightful ! — to me to hear. My dearest and most devoted
wife, e* .• faithful, ever loving, ever helpful and sustaining and consoling, is the
])riceleoo blessing of my house ; from whom all its other blessings spring. We are
rather .i musical family, and when Christiana sees me, at any time, a little weary
or depressed, she steals to the piano and sings a gentle air she used to sing when we
were first betrothed. So weak a man am I, that I caniiot bear to hear it from any
other source. They played it once, at the Theatre, when I was there with little
Frank ; and the child said wondering, "Cousin Michael, whose hot tears are these
that have fallen on my hand ! '*

Such is my Castle, and such arc the real particulars of my life therein preserved.
I often take Little Frank home there. He is very welcome to my grandchildren,
and they play together. At this time of the year — the Christmas and New Year
time — I am .seldom out of my Castle. For, the associations of the season seem to
hold me there, and the precepts of the season seem to teach me that it is well to be
there.

** And the Castle is " observed a grave, kind voice among the company.

" Yes. My Castle," said the poor relation, shaking his head as he still looked
at the fire, " is in the Air. John our esteemed host suggests its situation
accurately. My Castle is in the Air ! I have done. Will you be so good as to
pass the story." , ,

it

':•;

I I I HiiMI

200

The Child s Story.

THE CHILD'S STORY.
— f—

Once upon a time, a good many years ago, there was a traveller, and he set out
upon a journey. It was a magic journ* y, and was to seem very long when ho
began it, and very short when he got half way through.

lie travelletl along a rather dark path for some little time, without meeting
anything, until at last he came to a beautiful child. So he saiil to the child,
'* what do you do here ?" And the child said, " I am always at play. Come and
1 lay with me ! "

So, he played with that child, the whole day long, and they were very merry.
The sky was so blue, the sun was so bright, the water was so sparkling, the leaves
were so green, tliQ tlowers were so lovely, and they heard such singing-birds and
SAW so many butterflies, that eveiything was beautiful. This was in fine weather.
When it rained, they loved to watch the falling drops, and to smell the fresh scents.
\Vhen it blew, it was delightful to listen to the wind, and fancy what it said, as it
came rushing from its home — where was that, they wondered ! — whistling and
howling, driving the clouds before it, bending th'^ trees, rumbling in the chimneys,
shaking the house, ami making the sea roar in fury. But, when it snowed, that
was best of all ; for, they likeil nothing so well as to look up at the white flakes
falling fast and thick, like down from the breasts of millions of white birds ; and
lo see how smooth and deep the drift was ; and to listen to the hush upon the
paths and roads.

They had plenty of the fmest toys in the world, and the most astonishing
picture-books : all about scimitars and slippers and turbans, and dwarfs and giants
and genii and Hiiries, and blue-beards and bean-stalks and riches and caverns and
forests and Valentines and Orsons : and all new and all true.

But, one day, of a sudden, the traveller lost the child. He called to him over
and over again, but got no answer. So, he went upon his road, and went on for a
little while without meeting anything, until at last he came to a hantlsome boy.
So, he said to the boy, "What do you do here?" And the boy said, "I am
always leaniing. Come and learn with me."

So he le.irned with that boy about Jupiter and Juno, and the Creeks and the
Romans, and I don't knov/ wliat, and learned more than I could tell — or he either,
for he soon forgot a great deal of it. But, they were not always learning ; they
had the merriest games that ever were played. They rowed upon the river in
summer, and skated on the ice in winter ; they were active afoot, and active on
horseback ; at cricket, and all games at ball ; at prisoners' base, hare and hounds,
follow my leader, and more sports than I can think of ; nobody could beat them.
They had holidays too, and Twelfth cakes, and parties where they danced till
midnight, and real Theatres where they saw palaces of real gold and silver rise out
of the real earth, and saw all the wonders of the world at once. As to friends,
they had such dear friends and so many of them, that I want the time to reckon
I hem up. They were all young, like the handsome boy, and were never to be
strange to one another all their lives through.

Still, one day, in the midst of all these pleasures, the traveller lost the boy as he
had lost the child, and, after calling to him in vain, went on upon his journey. So
he went on for a little while without seeing anything, until at last he came to a

and lie set out
' long when he

ilhout meeting
il to the chilli,
ly. Come and

I'c very meiiy,
ing, the leaves
jing-birds and
I fine weather,
le fresh scents,
t it said, as it
whistling and
the chinmeys,
snowed, that
white Hakes
c birds ; and
uisli npon the

t astonishing

rfs and giants

caverns and

to him over
*ent on for a
ulsome boy.
>aid, "I am

ks and the
or he either,
ning ; they
he river in
nd active on
and hounds,
beat them,
danced till
ver rise out
to friends,
to reckon
lever to be

e boy as he |
urney. So
came to a I

A Vision of Life.

201

young man. So, he said to the young man, '• What do you do here ? " And the
young man said, ** I am ahvny in love. Come antl love with me."

So, he went away with that young man, and presently they came to one ol
the prettiest girls that ever was seen — just like Kmny in the corner there — and she
iiad eyes like Fanny, and hair like Fanny, and dimples like Fanny's, and she
laughed and coloured just as Fanny docs while I am talking about her. So, the
young man fell in love directly— just as Somebody I won't mention, the first time
he came here, did with Fanny. Well ! he was teased sometimes— ji.ot as .Some-
Ixulyuscd to be by Fanny ; and tiiey quarrelled sometimes — just as Somebody an<l
I aimy used to (juarrel ; an<l they made it up, and sat in the dark, and wrote
letters every day, and never were happy asunder, and were always looking out for
one another and pretending nt)t to, and were engaged at Christmas time, and sat
close to one another by the fire, and were going to be married very soon- all
exactly like Somebody I won't mention, and Fanny !

liut, the traveller lost them one day, as he had lost the rest of his friends, and,
after calling io them to come back, which they never did, went on uj^on his journey.
So, he went on for a little while without ^;eeing anything, until at last he came to
.1 middle-aged gentleman. So, he said to the gentleman, " What are you doing
here?" And his answer was, "I am always busy. Come and be busy with
me ! "

So, he began to be very busy with that gentleman, and they went on through
the wood together. The whole journey wns through a wood, only it had been
oi)en and green at first, like a wood in spring ; and now began to be thick and
dark, like a wood in summer ; some of the little trees that had come out earliest,
were even turning brown. The gentleman was not ahme, but had a lady of about
the same age with him, who was his Wife ; and they hatl children, who were with
them too. So, they all went on together through the wood, cutting down the
trees, and making a path through the branches and the fiillen leaves, and carrying
burdens, nnd working hard.

Someti les, they came to a long green avenue that opened into deeper woods.
Then they would hear a very little distant voice crying, *' Father, father, I am
another child I Stop for me ! "' And presently they would see a very little figure,
growing larger as it came along, running to join them. When it came up, they
all crowded round it, and kist;ed and welcomed it ; and then they all went on
together.

vSometimes, they came to several avenues at once, and then they all stood still,
and one of the children said, " I'^ather, I am going to sea," and another said,
*' Father, I am going to India," and another, " Father, I am going to seek my
fortune where I can, and another, ** Father, I am going to Heaven ! " So, with
many tears at parting, they went, solitary, down those avenues, each child upon
its way ; and the child who went to Heaven, rose into the golden air and
vanished.

Whenever these partings happened, the traveller looked at the gcitleman, and
saw him glance up at the sky al;ove the trees, where the day was beginning to
decline, and the sunset to come on. He saw, too, that his hair was turning grey.
But, they never could rest long, for they had their journey to perform, and it was
necessary for them to be always busy.

At last, there had been so many partings that there were no children left, and
only the traveller, the gentleman, and the lady, went upon their way in company.
And now the wood was yellow ; and now brown ; and the leaves, even of the
forest trees, began to fall.

So, they came to an avenue that was darker than the rest, and were pressing
forward on their journey without looking down it when the lady stopped.

U-

1 1

il

202

T/ie Schoolboy's Story,

say,

" My husband," said the lady. ** I am called."

They listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue,
"Mother, mother!"

It was the voice of the first child who had said, "I am going to Heaven ! " and
the father said, *' I pray not yet. The sunset is very near. I pray not yet ! "

But, the voice cried, *' Mother, mother ! " without minding him, though his
hair was now quite white, and tears were on his face.

Then, the mother,' who was already drawn into the shade of the dark avenue
and moving away with her arms still round his neck, kissed him, and said, '* My
dearest, I am summoned, and I go ! " And she was gone. And the traveller and
he were left alone together.

And they went on and on together, until they came to very near the end of the
wood : so near, that they could see the sunset shining red before them through
the trees.

Yet, once more, while he broke his way among the branches, the traveller lost
his friend. He called and called, but there was no reply, and when he passed out
of the wood, and saw the peaceful sun going down upon a wide purple prospect,
he came to an old man sitting on a fallen tree. So, he said to the old man,
*' What do you do here?" And the old man said with a calm smile, "lam
always remembering. Come and remember with me ! "

So the traveller sat down by the side of that old man, face to face with the
serene sunset ; and all his friends came softly back and stood around him. The
beautiful child, the handsome boy, the young man in love, the father, mother, and
children : every one of them was there, and he had lost nothing. So, he loved
them all, and was kind and forbearing with them all, and was always pleased to
watch them all, and they all honored and loved him. And I think the traveller
must be yourself, dear Grandfather, because this is what you do to us, and what
we do to you.

1 <xi vv"^ v'V/ V' V %

THE SCHOOLBOY'S STORY.

Being rather young at present — I am getting on in years, but still I am rather
young — I have no particular adventures of my own to fail back upon. It wouldn't
much interest anybody here, I suppose, to know what a screw the Reverend is, or
what a griffin she is, or how they do stick it into parents — particularly hair-cutting,
and medical attendance. One of our fellows was charged in his half's account
twelve and sixpence for two pills — tolerably profitable a^ six an I threepence a-piece,
I should think — and he never took them either, but pu^ them up the sleeve of his
jacket.

As to the beef, it's shameful. It's not beef. Regular l>eef isn't veins. You can
chew regular beef. Besides which, there's gravy to regular beef, and you never
see a drop to ours. Another of our fellows went home ill, and heard the family
doctor tell his father that he couldn't account for his complaint unless it was the
beer. Of course it was the beer, and well it might be !

However, beef and Old Cheeseman are two different things. So is beer. It
was Old Cheeseman I meant to tell about ; not the manner in which our fellows
get their constitutions destroyed for the sake of profit.

Why, look at the pie-crust alone. There's no flakiness in it. It's solid — like

'n the avenue, say,

g to Heaven I " and
pray not yet ! "
ig him, though his

5f the dark avenue
m, and said, **My
nd the traveller and

near the end of the
fore them through

i, the traveller lost
vhen he passed out
e purple prospect,
to the old man,
ilm smile, "lam

to face with the
iround him. The
ither, mother, and
ig- So, he loved
always pleased to
think the traveller
F> to us, and what

still I am rather
)n. It wouldn't
Reverend is, or
rly hair-cutting,

half's account
^epence a-piece,

e sleeve of his

nns. You can
and you never
brd the family
less it was the

|o is beer. It
;h our fellows

It's solid— like

....,-:a^irmm:^-:.:.-.A,

1 I*

ill

THE SCHOOLUOY 8 STORY.

52^

^\/'y

riamp lead. T*^«^n our fellows get nightmares, and are bolstered for calling out
and waking othei fellows. Who can wonder !

Old Cheeseman one night walked in his sleep, put his hat on over his night-cap,
got hold of a fishing-rod and a cricket-bat, and went down into the parlor, where
they naturally thought from his appearance he was a Ghost. Why, he never
would have done that if his meals had been wholesome. When we all begin to
walk in our sleeps, I suppose they'll be sorry for it.

Old Cheeseman wasn't second Latin Master then ; he was a fellow, himself.
He was first brought there, very small, in a post-chaise, by a woman who was
always taking snuff and shaking him — and that was the most he remembered about
it. He never went home for the holidays. His accounts (he never learnt any
extras) were sent to a Bank, and the Bank paid them ; and he liad a brown suit
twice a-year, and went into boots at twelve. They were always too big for him,
too.

In the Midsummer holidays, some of our fellows who lived within walking
distance, used to come back and climb the trees outside the playground wall, on
purpose to look at Old Cheeseman reading there by himself. He was always as
mild as the tea — and that''s pretty mild, I should hope ! — so when they whistled
to him, he looked up and nodded ; and when they said, " Halloa, Old Cheeseman,
what have you had for dinner ? " he said, " Boiled mutton ; " and when they said
" An't it solitaiy. Old Cheeseman ? " he said, ** It is a little dull sometimes : " and
then they said, "Well good-bye, Old Cheeseman!" and climbed down again.
Of course it was imposing on Old Cheeseman to give him nothing but boiled mutton
through a whole Vacation, but that was just like the system. When they didn't
give him boiled mutton, they gave him rice pudding, pretending it wus a treat.
And saved the butcher.

So Old Cheeseman went on. The holidays brought him into other trouble
besides the loneliness ; because when the fellows began to come back, not wanting
to, he was always glad to see them ; which was aggravating when they were not
at all glad to see him, and so he got his head knocked against walls, and that was
the way his nose bled. But he was a favourite in general. Once a subscription
was raised for him ; and, to keep up his spirits, he was presented before the
holidays with two white mice, a rabbit, a pigeon, and a beautiful puppy. Old
Cheeseman cried about it — especially soon afterwards, when they all ate one
another.

Of course Old Cheeseman used to be called by the names of all sorts of cheeses
— Double Glo'sterman, Family Cheshireman, Dutchman, North Wiltshireman, and
all that. But he never minded it. And I don't mean to say he was old in point
of years — because he wasn't — only he was called from the first, Old Cheeseman.

At last. Old Che-^seman was made second Latin Master. He was brought in
one morning at the beginning of a new half, and presented to the school in that
capacity as '*>\Ir. Cheeseman." Then our fello\vB all agreed that Old Cheeseman
was a spy, and a deserter, who had gone over to the enemy's camp, and sold
himself for gold. It was no excuse for him that he had sold himself for very little
gold — two pound ten a quarter and his washing, as was reported. It was decided
by a Parliament which sat about it, that Old Cheeseman's mercenary motives
could alone be taken into account, and that he had ** coined our blood for
drachmas." The Parliament took the expression out of the quarrel scene between
Brutus and Cassius.

When it was settled in this strong way that Old Cheeseman was a tremendou's
traitor, who had wormed himself into our fellows' secrets on purpose to get himself
into favour by giving up everything he knew, all courageous fellows were invited
to come forward and enrol themselves in a Society for making a set against him,.

*«*^,

i' t '.

I :u

Jf

204

y//^ Sihoolbofs Slory.

The President of the Society was First boy, named Bob Tarter. His father was
in the West Indies, and he owned, himself, that his father was worth MilUons.
He had great power among our fellows, and he wrote a parody, beginning,

" WIio made believe to he so meek
That we could hardly hear him speak,
Yet turned out an Informing Sneak ?

Old Cneeseman."

—and on in that way throxigh more than a dozen verses, which he used to go and
sing, every morning, close by the new master's desk. He trained one of the low
boys, too, a rosy-cheeked little Brass who didn't care what he did, to go up to him
with his Latin Grammar one morning, and say it so : Noininativus pronominum —
OldCheeseman, raro exprimitnr — -was never suspected, tiisi distinctionis -oi being
an informer, aiU emphasis f^ratia — until he proved one. Ut — for instance, Vos
damnastis—ythan he sold the boys. Quasi — as though, dical — he should say,
Pretccrea nemo — I'm a Judas ! All this produced a great effect on Old Cheeseman.
He had never had much hair ; but what he had, began to get thimicr and thinner
every day. He grew paler and more worn ; and sometimes of an evening he was seen
sitting at his desk with a precious long snuff to his candle, and his hands before his
face, crying. But no member of the Society could pity him, even if he felt inclined,
becau.se the President said it was Old Cheeseman's conscience.

So Old Cheeseman went on, and didn't he lead a miserable life ! Of course
the Reverend turned up his nose at him, and of course she did — because both of
them always do that at all the masters — but he suffered from the fellows most, and
he suffered from them constantly. He never told al)out it, that the Society could
find out ; but he got no credit for that, because the President said it was Old
Cheeseman's cowardice. ^

He had only one friend in the world, and that one was almost as powerless as
he was, for it was gnly Jane. Jane was a sort of wardrobe woman to our fellows,
and took care of the boxes. She had come at first, I believe, as a kind of appren-
tice— some of our fellows say from a Charity, but /don't know — and after her time
was out, liad stopped at so much a year. .So little a year, perhaps I ought to say,
for it is far more likely. However, she had put some pounds in the Savings'
Bank, and she was a very nice young woman. She was not quite pretty ; but she
had a very frank, honest, bright face, and all our fellows were fond of her. She
was uncommonly neat and cheerful, and uncommonly comfortab'.e and kind. And
if anything was the matter with a fellow's mother, he always went and showed the
letter to Jane.

Jane was Old Cheeseman's friend. The more the Society went against him, the
more Jane stood by him. She used to give him a good-humoured look out of her
still-room window, sometimes, that seemed to set him up for the day. She used
to pass out of the orchard and the kitchen garden (always kept locked, I believe
you !) through the play-ground, when she might have gone the other wiiy, only to
give a turn of her head, as much as to say " Keep up your spirits ! " to Old Cheese-
man. His slip of a room was so fresh and orderly that it was well known who
looked after it v.hile he was at his desk ; and when our fellows saw a smoking hot
dumpling on his plate at dinner, they knew with indignation who had sent it up.

Under these circumstances, the Society resolved, after a quantity of meeting and
debating, that Jane should be requested to out Old Cheeseman dead ; and that if
she refused, she must be sent to Coventry herself. So a deputation, hjeaded by
the President, was appointed to wait on Jane, and inform her of the vote the
Society had been under the j^ainful necessity of passing. She was very much
respected for all her good qualities, and there was a story about her having once
waylaid the Reverend in his own study, and got a fellow off from severe punish-

His father was
i worth Millions.
jeginninu,

he used to go and
cd one of the low
1, to go up to him
>HS pronomimim —
nctionis -oih^xw^
-for instance, Vos
t — he should say,
n Old Cheeseman.
tiiinicr and thinner
vening lie was seen
is hands before his
if he felt inclined,

3 life ! Of course
— because both of i
; fellows most, and
the Society could
it said it was Old

3st as powerless as
lan to our fellows,
a kind of appren-
and after her time
ips I ought to say,
s in the Savings'
e pretty ; but she
bnd of her. She
e and kind. And
at and showed the

It against him, the
ed look out of her
2 day. She used
locked, I believe
ther wuy, only to
! " to Old Cheese-
well known who
aw a smoking hot
) had sent it up.
ty of meeting and
lead ; and that if
Jation, hjeaded by

of the vote the
was very much

her having once
ini severe punish-

(^ood Fortune of Old Cheesemiin.

aotj

mcut, of her own kind comfortable heart. So the deputation didn't much like the
job. However, they went up, and the President told Jane all about it. Upon
which Jane turned very red, burst into tears, informed the I'residcnt and the
deputation, in a way not at all like her usvi.d way, tliat they were a parcel of
malicious young savages, and turneil the whole respected body out of the room.
Consequently it was entered in the Society's Ixjok (kept in astronomical cypher for
fear of detection), that all conuuunication with Jane was interdicted : and the
I'lcsident addressed the members on this convincing instance of Old C'heeseman's
uixlermining.

15ut Jane was as true to Old Cheeseman as Old Cheeseman was false to our
fellows— in their opinion, at all events— and steadily continued to be his only
fiiend. It was a great exasperation to the Society, because Jane was as much a
loss to them as she was a gain to him ; and being more inveterate against him than
ever, they treated him worse than ever. At last, one morning, his desk stood
empty, his room was peeped into, and found to be vacant, ancl a whisper went
r\l)out among the pale faces of our fellows that Old Cheeseman, unable to bear it
any longer, had got up early and drowned himself.

The mysterious looks of the other masters after breakl;rst, and the evident fact
that old Cheeseman was not expected, confuined the Society in this opinion.
Some began to discuss whether the President was liable to hanging or only trans-
jiortation for life, and the President's face showed a great anxiety to know which.
However, he said that a jury of his country should find him game ; and that in his
address he should put it to them to lay their hands upon their hearts and say
whether they as Britons approved of informers, and how they thought they would
like it themselves. Some of the Society considered that he had better run away
until he found a forest where he might change clothes with a wood-cutter, and
stain his face with blackberries ; but the majority believed that ii he stood his
ground, his father — belonging as he did to the West Indies, and being worth
Millions — could buy him off.

All our fellows' hearts beat fast when the Reverend came in, and made a sort of
a Roman, or a Field Marshal, of himself with the ruler ; as he always did before
delivering an address. But their fears were nothing to their astonishment when he
came out with the story that Old Cheeseman, "so long our respected friend and
fellow-pilgrim in the pleasant plains of knowledge," he called Iiim — O yes ! I dare
say ! Much of that ! — was the orphan child of a disinherited young lady who had
married against her father's wish, and whose young Imsband had died, and who
had died of sorrow herself, and whose unfortunate baby (Old Cheeseman) had been
brought up at the cost of a grandfather who would never consent to see it, baby,
boy, or man : which grandfather was now dead, and serve him right — that's 7)iy
putting in — and which grandfather's large property, there being no will, was now,
and all of a sudden and for ever, Old Cheeseman's ! Our so long respected friend
and fellow- pilgrim in the pleasant plains of knowledge, the Reverend wound up a
lot of bothering quotations by saying, would "come among us once more" that
day fortnight, when he desired to take leave of us himself, in a more particular
manner. With these words, he stared severely round at our fellows, and went
solemnly out.

There was precious consternation among the members of the Society, now.
Lots of them wanted to resign, and lots more began to try to make out that they
had never belonged to it. However, the President stuck up, and said that they
must stand or fall together, and that if a breach was made it should be over his
bodv — which was meant to encourage the Society : but it didn't. The President
further said, he would consider the position in which they stood, and would give
them his best opinion and advice in a few days. This was eagerly looked for, as

206

The Schoolboys Story.

V I:

he knew a gootl dHA «f the world on account of his father's being in the West
Indies.

After days and days of hard thinking, and drawing armies all over his slate, the
President calU-d our fellows toj^ethcr, and made the matter clear. lie said it was
plain that when Old Cheeseman ?.ame on the appointed day, his first rcvenjje
would he to impeach the Society, and have it floj^gea all round. After witnessin}'
with joy the torture of his enemies, anti j^'loating over the cries which agony would
extort from them, the probability was that he would invite the Reverend, on ])re-
tence of conversation, mto a private room— say the parlour into which Parents
were shown, where the two great globes were whicn were never used— and would
there reproach him with the various frauds and oj)pressions he h.ail endured at liis
hands. At the close of Ins observations he wouUl make a signal to a Prizefighter
concealed in the passage, who would then appear ami pitch into the Reverend, till
he was left msensible. Old Cheeseman would then make Jane a present of from
five to ten pounds, and would leave the establishment in fiendish triumph.

The President explained that against the parlour part, or the Jane part, of these
arrangements he had nothing to say ; but, on the part of the Society, lie coimselled
deadly resistance. With this view he recommended that all available desks should
be filled with stones, and that the first word of the complaint should be the signal
to every fellow to let fly at Old Cheeseman. The bold advice put the Society in
better spirits, and was unanimously taken. A post about Old Cheeseman's size
was put up in the playground, and all our fellows practised at it till it was dinted
all over.

When the day came, and Places were called, every fellow sat down in a tremble.
There had been much discussing and disputing as to how Old Cheeseman would
come ; but it was the general opinion that he would appear in a sort of triumphal
car drawn by four horses, with two livery servants in front, and the Prizefighter in
disguise up behind. So, all our fellows sat listening for the sound of wheels. But
no wheels were heard, for OKI Cheeseman walked after all, and came into the
school without »uiy preparation. Pretty much as he used to be, only dressed in
black.

"Gentlemen," said the Reverend, presenting him, "our so long respected friend
and fellow-pilgrim in the pleasant plams of knowledge, is desirous to offer a word
or two. Attention, gentlemen, one and all ! "

Every fellow stole his hand into his desk and looked at the President. The
President was all ready, and taking aim at Old Cheeseman with his eyes.

What did Old Cheeseman then, but walk up to his old desk, look round him
with a queer smile as V there was a tear in his eye, and begin in a quavering mild
voice, ** My dear companions and old friends ! "

Every fellow's hand came out of his desk, and the President suddenly began to
cry.

" My dear companions and old friends," said Old Cheeseman, •* you have heard
of my good fortune. I have passed so many years under this roof — my entire life
so far, I may say — that I hope you have been glad to hear of it for my sake. I
could never enjoy it without exchanging congratulations with you. If we have
ever misunderstood one another at all, pray my dear boys lei us forgive and forget.
I have a great tenderness for you, and I am sure you return it. I want in the ful-
ness of a grateful heart to shake hands with you every one. I have come back to
do it, if you please, my dear boys."

Since the President had begim to ciy, several other fellows had broken out here
and there : but now, when Old Cheeseman began with him as first boy, laid his
left hand affectionately on his shoulder and gave him his right ; and when the
President said *' Indeed, I don't deserve it, sir ; upon my honour I don't ; " there

\7Jpf,

V

)eing in the Wc^t

over his slate, the

lie said it was

his first revenue

After witnessin<;

hich agony would

i<evcrend, on pre-

to which I'arents

used— and would

lad en(hired at his

.1 to a Prizefighter

the Reverend, till

a present of from

triumph.

anc nart, of these
ety, lie counselled
lal)le desks shouM
(uKl be the signal
put the Society in
Cheeseman's size
t till it was dinted

own in a tremble.

Cheeseman would
sort of triumphal

he Prizefighter in
1 of wheels. But
id came into the
only dressed in

respected friend
to ofier a word

I President. The

[is eyes,
look round him
quavering mild

Kldenly began to

I* you have heard
-my entire life
Tor my sake. I
)u. If we have

jive and forget.
Iwant in the ful-

^'e come back to

jroken out here

3t boy, laid his

and when the

don't ; " there

Oid Cheeseman s Treat and Marriage.

ao7

w.is sobbing and crying all over the school. F-vcry other fellow said he didn't
(kservc it, much in the same way ; but Old Cheoscnmn, not minding that a bit,
went cheerfully round to every boy, and wound up with every master — finishing oft
the Reverend last.

Then a snivelling little chap in a corner, who was always under some punish-
iiuMit or other, set up a shrill cry of " Success to Old ( hecseman ! Hooray!"
The Reverend glared upon him, and said, *' J/r. Cheeseman, sir." Ihit, Old
Cheeseman protesting that he liked his old name a great deal better than his new
one, all our fellows look up the cry ; and, lor I ilon'l know how many minutes,
there was such a thundering of feet and hands and such a roaring of Old Cheese-
luan, as never was heard.

After that, there was a spread in the dining-room of ll.e most magnificent kind.
Fowls, tongues, preserves, fruits, confectionaries, jellies, neguses, barley-sugai
li'in|)lei;, trifles, crackers -eat all you can and pocket what you like — all at Old
ClRcseman's ex])ense. After that, speeches, whole holiday, doid)Ie and treble sets
of all manners of things for all manner.' of games, donkeys, pony-chaises and drive
yourself, dinner for all the masters at the .Seven Hells (twenty jiounds a-head our
fellows estimated it at), an annual holiday and feast fixed for that day every year,
;in(I another on Old Cheeseman's birthday — Reverend bound down before thefellows
to allow it, so that he could never back out— all at Old Cheeseman's expense.

And didn't our fellows go down in a body and cheer outside the Seven Bells ?
0 no !

But there's something else besides. Don't look at the next story-teller, for
there's more yet. Next day, it was resolved that the Society should make it up
with Jane, and then be dissolved. What do you think of Jane being gone, though !
" What ? Gone for ever ? " said our fellows, with long faces. " Yes, to be sure,"
was all the answer they could get. None of the people about the house would say
anything more. At length, the first boy took upon himself to ask the Reverend
wliethcr our old friend Jane was really gone ? The Reverend (he has got a
daughter at home— turn-up nose, and red) replied severely, "Yes, sir, Miss Pitt is
gone." The idea of calling Jane, Miss I'itt ! .Some said she had been sent away
in disgrace for taking money from Old Cheeseman ; others said she had gone into
Old Cheeseman's service at a rise of ten pounds a year. All that our fellows
knew, was, she was gone.

It was two or three months afterwards, when, one afternoon, an open carriage
stopped at the cricket field, just outside bounds, with a lady and gentleman in it,
who looked at the game a long time and stood up to see it played. Nobody
thought much about them, until the same little snivelling chap came in, against all
rules, from the post where he was Scout, and said, *' It's Jane ! " Both Elevens
forgot the game directly, and ran crowding round the carriage. It xvas Jane ! In
such a bonnet ! And if you'll believe me, Jane was married to Old Cheeseman.

It soon became quite a regular thing when our fellows were hard at it in the
playground, to see a caniage at the low part of the wall where it joins the high
part, and a lady and gentleman standing up in it, looking over. The gentleman
was always Old Cheeseman, and the lady was always Jane.

The first time I ever saw them, I saw them in that way. There had been a good
many changes among our fellows then, and it had turned out that Bob Tarter's
father wasn't worth Millions ! He wasn't worth anything. Bob had gone for a
soldier, and Old Cheeseman had purchased his discharge. But that's not the car-
riage. The carriage stopped, and all our fellows stopped as soon as it was seen.

" So you have never sent me to Coventry after all !" said the lady, laughing,
as our fellows swarmed up the wall to shake liands with lier. " Are you never
going to do it?"

1

V Ml

2oS

Nobody's Story.

*• Never ! never ! never ! " on all sides.

I didn't understand what she meant then, but of course I <1() row. T wn^ very
much pleased with her face thou|,'h, and with her good way, and I couldn't help
looking at her— and at him too — with all our follows clustering so joyfully about
them.

They soon took notice of me as a new boy, so I thouglit I might as well swarm
up the wall myself, and shake hands with ihrm as the rest did. I was quite a-,
glad to see them as the rest were, and was (juite as familiar with them in a
moment.

•'Only a fortnight now," said Old Chcescman, ** to the holidays. Who stops ?
Anybody?"

A good many fingers pointed at nic, and a good many voices cried *' He docs ! "
For it was the year when you were all away ; and rather low I was about il, I can
tell you.

*' Oh ! " said Old Chcescman. ** But il's solitary' here in the holiday time. He
had better come to us."

So I went to their delightful house, and was as happy as T could possibly he.
They understand how to conduct themselves towards boys, tluy do. When they
take a boy to the l>lay, for instance, they do take him. Tiiey don't go in after it .-,
begun, or come out before it's over. They know how to bring a boy up, too.
Look at their own ! Though he is very little as yet, what a capital boy ne is !
Why, my next favourite to Mrs. Chcescman and Old Cheeseman, is young
Cheeseman.

So, now I have told you all I know about Old Cheeseman. And it's not much
after all, I am afraid. Is it ?

ft<VrV/^'W^^>*'W WX«X^VN/Wv\/1

W/ i/^/\/\/WX^

NOBODY'S STORY.
— s —

He lived on the bank of a mighty river, broat.' -"id deep, which was always
silently rolling on to a vast undiscovered ocean. It had rolled on, ever since the
world began. It had changed its course sometimes, and turned into new channels,
leaving its old ways dry and barren ; but it had ever been upon the flow, and ever
was to flow until Time should be no more. Against its strong, unfathomable
stream, nothing made head. No living creature, no flower, no leaf, no particle of
animate or inanimate existence, ever strayed back from the undiscovered oceJin.
The tide of the river set resistlessly towards it ; and the tide never stopped, any
more than tlie earth stops in its circling round the sun.

He lived in a busy place, and he worked very hard to live. He had no hope of
ever being rich enough to live a month without hard work, but he was quite
content, God knows, to labour with a cheerful will. He was one of an immense
family, all of whose sons and daughters gained their daily bread by daily work,
prolonged from their rising up betimes until their lying down at night. Beyond
this destiny he had no prospect, and he sought none.

There was over-much drumming, trumpeting, and speech-making, in the
neighbourhood where he dwelt ; but he had nothing to do with that. Such clash
and uproar came from the Bigwig family, at the unaccountable proceedings of which
race, he marvelled much. They set up the strangest statues, in iron, marble,
bronze and brass, before his door ; and darkened his house with the legs and tails

t^ow. T was very
lul I couldn't hell.
J so joyfully alxjiu

i^ht as well swarm
ill. I was quite ;i>
ir with them in a

lays. Who stops ?

cried ** He docs! "
was about it, I can

holiday tiuio. I lo

could possibly ho.
ry do. When they
lon't go in after it's
ing a boy up, too.
capital boy he is 1
.•eseman, is youni,'

And it's not much

which was always
on, ever since the
into new channels,
ithe flow, and ever
Ing, unfathomable
leaf, no particle of
Idiscovered ocean,
[ever stopped, any

[e had no hope of
Ibut he was quite
lie of an immense
[d by daily work.
It night. Beyond

[■making, in the
lat. Such clash
ceedings of which
I in iron, marble,
the legs and tails

TAf Bi^i'ij^ Fatnii)\

209

of uncouth images of horses. Tie wondered what it all meant, smiled in a ioi!^;h
i;()od-humourcd way he had, and kept at his hard work.

The Bigwig family (composed of all the stateliest pcoj)le thereabouts, and all the
noisiest) had undertaken to save him the trouble of lliinking for himself, luul lo
manage him and his affairs. ** Why truly," sai<l he, " I have little time vi|ion my
hands ; and if you will be so good as to take care of mo, in return for the nn-ncy I
pay over" — for the Bigwig family were not above his money — •*' I shall be relievtd
and much obliged, considering that you know best." Hence the (Iruniniin^',
tnunpcting, and speech-making, and the ugly images of horses which he was ex-
pected to fall down atid wt)rship.

" I don't understand all this," said he, rubbing his furrowed brow confiivvdly.
•• But it has a meaning, maybe, if I could fmd it out."

*' It means," returned the Bigwig family, susj^ecting something of what he wld,
"honour and glory in the highest, to the highest merit."

'• Oh ! " said he. And he was glad to hear that.

But, when he looked among the images in iron, marble, bronze, anil hras*^', be
failed to find a rather meritorious countryman of his, once the son of a Warwick-
shire wool-dealer, or any single countryman whomsoever of that kind. lie could
liml none of the men who>.e knowledge had rescued him and his children fioin
terrific and disfiguring disease, whose boldness had raised his forefathers from tlie
condition of serfs, whose wise fancy had oi)ened a new and high existence to the
humblest, whose skill had fdled the working man's world with accumulated
wonders. Whereas, he did fiml others >vhoui he knew no good of, and even
others whom he knew much ill of.

" Humph ! " said he. " T don't quite understand it."

So, he went home, and sat down by his fire-side to get it out of his mind.

Now, his fire-side was a bare one, all hemmed in by blackened streets ; but it
was a precious place to him. The hands of his wife were hardened with toil, and
she was oM before her time ; but she was dear to him. His children, stunted in
their growth, bore traces of unwholesome nurture ; but they had beauty in his
sight. Above all other things, it was an earnest desire of this man's soul that his
children should be taught. " If I am sometimes misled," said he, " for want of
knowledge, at least let them know better, and avoid my mistakes. If it is hard t(j
me to reap the harvest of pleasure and instruction that is stored in books, let it l:)e
easier to them."

But, the Bigwig family broke out into violent family quarrels concerning Vv'hat it
was lawful to teach to this man's children. Some of the family insisted on siicii a
thing being primary and indispensable above all other things ; and others of the
family insisted on such another thing being primary and indispensable above rdl
other things ; and the Bigwig family, rent into factions, wrote ]iamphlets, held
convocations, delivered charges, orations, and all varieties of discourses; impounded
one another in courts Lay and courts Ecclesiastical ; threw dirt, exchanged piKn-
melings, and fell together by the ears in unintelligible animosity. Meanwhile, this
man, in his short evening snatches at his fire-side, saw the demon Ignorance arise
there, and take his children to itself. He saw his daughter perverted into a heavy
slatternly drudge ; he saw his son go moping down the ways of low sensuality, to
brutality and crime ; he saw the dawning light of intelligence in the eyes of his
babies so changing into cunning and suspicion, that ho could have rather \\ i bed
them idiots.

" I don't understand this any the better," said he ; "but I think it cannot be
right. Nay, by the clouded Heaven above me, I protest against this as my
wrong ! "

Becoming peaceable again (for his passion was usually short-lived, and his r.r.'nre

2IO

Nobodfs Story.

N "-'< i

kind), he looked about him on his Sundays and holidays, and he saw how mucli
monotony and weariness there was, and thence how drunkenness arose with all its
train of ruin. Then he appealed to the Bigwiij family, and said, "We are a
labouring people, and I have a glimmering suspicion in me that labouring people
of whatever condition were ma(le--by a higher intelligence than yours, as I poorly
understand it — to be in need of mental refreshment and recreation. See what wc
fall into, when we rest vishout it. Come ! Amuse me harmlessly, show nie
something, give me an escape ! "

Hut, here the Bigwig family fell into a state of uproar absolutely deafening.
When sonie few voices were faintly heard, proposing to show him the wonders of
the world, the greatness of creation, the mighty changes of time, the workings of
nature and the Ijeauties of art — to show him these things, that is to say, at any
period of his life when he could look upon them - there arose among the Bigwig-,
such roaring and raving, such pulpiting and petitioning, such maundering and
memorialising, such name-calling and dirt-throwing, such a shrill wind of
parliamentary questioning and feeble replying — where '* I dare not " waited on "I
would " — that the poor fellow stood aghast, staring wildly around.

" Have I provoked all this," said he, with his hands to his affrighted ears, " by
\\'hat was meant to be an innocent request, plainly arising out of my familiar ex-
perience, and the common knowledge of all men who choose to open their eyes ?
I don't understand, and I am not understood. What is to come of such a state of
things ! "

He was bending over his work, often asking himself the question, when the
news began to spread that a pestilence had appeared among the labourers, and was
slaying them by thousands. Going forth to look about him, he soon found this to
be true. The dying and the dead were mingled in the close and tainted house ;
among which his life was passed. New poison was distilled into the always murky,
always sickening air. The robust and the weak, old age and infancy, the father
and the mother, all were stricken down alike.

What means of flight had he ? He remained there, where he was, and saw those
who were dearest to him die. A kind p/reacher came to him, and would have said
some prayers to soften his heart in his gloom, but he replied :

" O what avnils it, missionary, to come to me, a man condemned to residence in
this foetid place, where every sense bestowed upon me for my delight becomes a
torment, an;l where every minute of my numbered days is new mire added to the
heap under which I lie oppressed ! But, give me my first glimpse of Heaven,
through a little of its light and air ; give me pure water ; help me to be clean ;
lighten this heavy atmosphere and heavy life, in which our spirits sink, and we
become the indifferent and callous creatures you too often see us ; gently and
kindly take the bodies of those who die among us, out of the small room where Me
grow to be so familiar with the awful change that even ITS sanctity is lost to us ;
and, Teacher^ then I will hear— none know better than you, how willingly — of
Him whose thoughts were so much with the poor, and who had compassion for
rl! human sorrow ! "

!Te was at his work again, solitary and sad, when his Master came and stood
near to him dressed in black. He, also, had suffered heavily. His young wife,
his beautiful and good young wife, was dead ; so, too, his only child.

"Master, 'tis hard to bear — 1 know it — but be comforted. I would give you
comfort, if I could."

The Master thanked him from his heart, but, said he, "O you labouring men I
The calamity began among you. If you had but lived more healthily and decently,
I should not be the widowed and bereft mourner that I am this day."

" Master," returned the other, shaking his head, " I have begun to understand a

\ N

*

e saw how much
arose with all its
lid, ' ' We are a
labouring people
ours, as I poorly
See what wc
lessly, show me

lutely deafening.
1 the wonders of

the workings of
is to say, at any
Dng tlie Bigwigs
maundering and

shrill wind of
t" waited on " I

ighted ears, "by
' my familiar ex-
open their eyes ?
of such a state of

istion, when the
ibourers, and was
oon found this to
d tainted house;
e always murky,
fancy, the father

LS, and saw those
I would have said

to residence in

[light becomes a

Ire added to the

Ipse of Heaven,

le to be clean ;

ts sink, and we

lis ; gently and

Iroom where we

Ity is lost to us ;

Iv willingly — of

[compassion for

ime and stood
fis young wife,

rould give you

pouring men '.
and decently,

understand a

Nobod'fs name.

211

little that most calamities will come from us, as this one did, and that none will
stop at our poor doors, until we are united with that great squabbling family
yonder, to do the things that are right. We cannot live healthily and decently,
unless they who undertook to manage us provide the means. We cannot be
instructed unless they will teach us ; we cannot be rationally amused, unless they
will amuse us ; we cannot but have some false gods of our own, while they set up
so many of theirs in all the public places. The evil consequences of imperfect
instruction, the evil consequences of pernicious neglect, the evil consequences of
unnatural restraint and the denial of humanising enjoyments, will all come from
us, and none of them will stop with us. They will spread far and wide. They
always do ; they always have done — ^just like the pestilence. I understand so
much, I think, at last."

But the Master said again, " O you labouring men ! How seldom do we ever
hear of you, except in connection with some trouble ! "

** Master," he replied, " I am Nobody, and little likely to be heard of (nor yet
much wanted to be heard of, perhaps), except when there is some trouble. But it
never begins with me, and it never can end with me. As sure as Death, it comes
down to me, and it goes up from me."

There was so much reason in what he said, that the Bigwig family, getting wind
of itj and being horribly frightened by the late desolation, resolved to unite with
him to do the things that were right — at all even;s, so far as the said things were
associated with the direct prevention, humanly speaking, of another pestilence.
But, as their fear wore off, which it soon began to do, they resumed their falling
out among themselves, and did nothing. Consequently the scourge appeared
again — low down as before — and spread avengingly upward as before, and carried
off vast numbers of the brawlers. But not a man among them ever admitted, if in
the least degree he ever perceived, that he had anything to do with it.

So Nobody lived and died in the old, old, old way ; and this, in the main, is the
whole of Nobody's story.

Had he no name, you ask ? Perhaps it was Legion. It matters little what his
name was. Let us call him Legion.

If you were ever in the Belgian villages near the field of Waterloo, you will have
seen, in some quiet little church, a monument erected by faithful companions in
arms to the memory of Colonel A, Major B, Captains C, D and E, Lieutenants F
and G, Ensigns H, I and J, seven non-commissioned officers, and one hundred and
thirty rank and file, who fell in the discharge of their duty on the memorable Jay.
The story of Nobody is the story of the rank and file of the earth. They bear their
share of the battle ; they have their part in the victory ; they fall ; they leave no
name but in the mass. The march of the proudest of us, leads to the dusty way by
which they go. O ! Let us think of them this year at the Christmas fire, and not
forget them when it is burnt out.

I

•vmmf

212

T/ie Ghost of Art.

THE GHOST OF ART.

I: \\

T AM a Ijaclielor, residing in rather a dreary set of chambers in the Temple.
Tliey are situated in a square court of high houses, which would be a complete
well, but for the want of water and the absence of a bucket. I live at the top of the
house, among the tiles and sparrows. Like the little man in the nursery-story, I
live by myself, and all th«, bread and cheese I g2t — which is not much — I put upon
a shelf. I need scarcely add, perhaps, that I am in love, and that the father of my
charming Julia objects to our union.

1 mention these little particulars as T might deliver a letter of introduction.
The reader is now acquainted with me, and perhaps will condescend to listen to
my narrative.

I am naturally of a dreamy turn of mind ; and my abundant leisure — for I am
called to the bar — coupled with much lonely listening to the twittering of sparrows,
and the pattering of rain, has encouraged that disposition. In my "top set" I
hear the wind howl, on a winter nifht, when the man on the ground floor believes
it is perfectly still weather. The dim lamps with which our Honourable Society
(supposed to be as yet unconscious of the new discovery called Gas) make the
horrors of the staircase visible, deepen the gloom which generally settles on my
soul when I go home at night.

I am in the Law, but not of it. I can't exactly make out what it means, I sit
in Westminster Hall sometimes (in character) from ten to four ; and when I go out
of Court, I don't know whether I am standing on my wig or my boots.

It appears to me (I mention this in confidence) as if there were too much talk
and too much law — as if some grains of trutli were started overboard into a tem-
pestuous sea of chafiF.

All this may make m mystical. Still, I am. confident that what I am going to
describe myself as having seen and heard, I actually did see and hear.

It is necessaiy that I should observe that I have a great delight in pictures. I
am no painter myself, but I have studied pictures and written about them. I have
seen all the most famous pictures in the world ; my education and reading have
been sufficiently general to possess me beforehand with a knowledge of most of the
subjects to which a Painter is likely to have recourse ; and, although I might be in
some doubt as to the rightful fashion of the scabbard of King Lear's sword, for
instance, I think I should know King Lear tolerably well, if 1 happened to meet
with him.

I go to all the Modern Exliibitions every season, and of course I revere the
Royal Academy. I stand by its forty Academical articles almost ^c <^.rmly as I
stand by the thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England. I am convinced
that in neither case could there be, by any rightful possibility, one article more
or less.

It is now exactly three years — three years ago, this very month— since I went
from Westminster to the Temple, one Thursday afternoon, in a cheap steamboat.
The sky was black, when I imprudently walked on board. It began to thunder
and lighten immediately afterwards, and the rain poured down in torrents. The
deck seeming to smoke with the -w et, I went below ; but so many passengers were
there, smoking too, that I came up uj-ran, and buttoning my pea-coat, and standing

A Model.

213

am going to

in the shadow of the paddle-box, stood as upright as I could, and made the best
of it.

It was at this moment that I first beheld the terrible Being, who is the subject
of my present recollections.

Standing against the funnel, apparently with the intention of drying himself Ijv
the heat as fast as he got wet, was a shabby man in threadbare black, and with hi^i
hands in his pockets, who fascinated me from the memorable instant when I
caught his eye.

Where had I caught that eye before ? Who was he ? Why did I connect him,
all at once, with the Vicar of Wakefield, Alfred the Great, Gil Bias, Charles the
Second, Joseph and his Brethren, the Fairy Queen, Tom Jones, the Decameron of
Boccaccio, Tam O'Shanter, the Marriage of the Doge of Venice with the Adriatic,
and the Great Plague of London ? Why, when he bent one leg, and placed on-*
hand upon the back of the seat near him, did my mind associate him wildly with
the words, "Number one hundred and forty-two. Portrait of a gentleman ? " Could
it be that I was going mad ?

I looked at him again, and now I could have taken my affidavit that he belongerl
to the Vicar of Wakefield's family. Whether he was tlie Vicar, or Moses, or Mr.
Burchill, or the Squire, or a conglomeration of all four, I knew not ; but I was
impelled to seize him by the throat, and charge him with l)eing, in some fell way,
connected with the Primrose blood. He looked up at the rain, and then -oh
Heaven! — he became Saint John. He folded his arms, resigning himself to the
weather, and I was frantically inclined to address him as the Spectator, and firmly
demand to know what he had done with Sir Roger de Coverley.

The frightful suspicion that I was becoming deranged, returned upon me with
redoubled force. Meantime, this awful stranger, inexplicably linked to my distress,
stood drying himself at the funnel ; and ever, as the steam rose from his clothes,
diffusinc; a mist around him, I saw through the ghostly medium all the people I
have mentioned, and a score more, sacred and profane.

I Am conscious of a dreadful inclination that stole upon me, as it thundered and
lightened, to grapple with this man, or demon, and plunge him over the side.
But, I constrained myself — I know not how — to speak to liim, and iu a pnuse of
the storm, I grossed the deck, and said :

♦' What are you ? "

lie replied, hoarsely, *' A Model." -

♦♦A what? "said I.

" A Model," he replied. '*T sets to the profession for a bob a-liour." (All
through this narrative I give his own words, which are indelibly imprinted on my

memory. )

The relief which this disclosure gave me, the exquisite delight of the restoration
of my confidence in my own sanity, I cannot describe. I should have fallen on his
neck, but for the consciousness of being obst.ved by the man at the wheel.

" You then," said I, shaking him so wannly by the hand, that I wrung the raiti
out of his coat-cuff, "are the gentleman viom I have so frequently contemplated,
in connection with a high-backed chair witii a red cushion, and a table with twisted
legs."

" I am that Model," he rejoined moodily, " and I wibh T was anything else."

** Say not so," I returned. *' I have seen you in the society of many 1 eautifid
^ young women ;" as in truth I had, and always ([ now remember) in the act of
making the most of his legs.

" No doubt," said he. " And you've seen me along with warses of flower-, antl
any number of table-kivers, and antique cabinets, and warious gammon."

" Sir ? " said I.

MWIWWHmiipMWfc*^-*-****-'

*' And warious gammon," he repeated, in a louder voice. " You miglit have
seen me in armour, too, if you had looked sharp. Blessed if I ha'n't stood in half
the suits of armour as ever came out of Pratt's shop : and sat, for weeks together,
a eating nothing, out of half the gold and silver dishes as has ever been lent for the
purpose out of Storrses, and Mortimerses, or Garrardses, and Davenportseseses."

Excited, as it appeared, by a sense of injury, I thought he would never have
found an end for the last word. But, at length it rplled sullenly away with the
thunder.

"Pardon me," said I, "you are a well-favoured, well-made man, and yet —
forgive me — I find, on examining my mind, that I associate you with — that my
recollection indistinctly makes you, in short — excuse me — a kind of powerful
monster."

"It would be a wonder if it didn't," he said. '* Do you know what my points

are

,»

"No," said I.

" My throat and my legs," said he. " When I don't set for a head, I mostly
sets for a throat and a pair of '';^. Now, granted you was a painter, and was to
work at my throat for a week together, I suppose you'd see a lot of lumps and
bumps there, that would never be there at all, if you looked at me, complete,
instead of only my throat. Wouldn't you ? "

" Probably," said I, surveying him.

" Why, it stands to reason," said the Model. " Work another week at my legs,
and it'll he the same thing. You'll make 'em out as knotty and as knobby, at
last, as if they was the trunks of two old trees. Then, *ake and stick my legs and
throat on to another man's body, and you'll make a reg'lar monster. And that's
the way the public gets their reg'lar monsters, every first Monday in May, when
the Royal Academy Exhibition opens."

" You are a critic," said I, with an air of deference.

" I'm in an uncommon ill humour, if that's it," rejoined the Model, with great
indignation. " As if it wam't bad enough for a bob a-hour, for a man to be
mixing himself up with that there jolly old furniter that one 'ud think the public
know'd the wery nails in by this time — or to be putting on greasy old 'ats and
cloaks, and playing tambourines in the Bay o' Naples, with Wesuvius a smokin'
according to pattern in the background, and the wines a beainng wonderful in the
middle distance — or to be unpolitely kicking up his legs among a lot o' gals, with
no reason whatever in his mind, but to show 'em — as if this wam't bad enough,
I'm to go and be thrown out of employment too ! "

" Surely no ! " said I.

" Surely yes," said the indignant Model. " But I'll grow one."

The gloomy and threatening manner in which he muttered the last words, can
never be effaced from my remembrance. My blood ran cold.

I asked of myself, what was it that this desperate Being was resolved to grow.
My breast made no response.

I ventured to implore him to explain his meaning. With a scornful laugh, he
littered this dark prophecy :

"I'll grow one. And, mark my words, it shall haunt you !"

We parted in the storm, after I had forced half-a-crown on his acceptance, with
a trembling hand. I conclude that something supernatural happeuv ' to the steam-
boat, as it bore his reeking figure down the river ; but it never got into the papers.

Two years elapsed, during which I followed my profession without any vicissi-
tudes ; never holding so much as a motion, of course. At the expiration of that
period, I found myself making my way home to the Temple, one night, in pre-
cisely such another storm of thunder and lightning as that by which I had been

The German Taste,

215

ne, complete,

overtaken on board the steamboat — except that this storm, bursting over the town
a! midnight, was rendered much more awful by the darkness and the hour.

As I turned into my court, I really thought a thunderbolt would fall, and plough
tlic pavement up. Every brick and stone in the place seemed to have an echo of
its own for the thunder. The waterspouts were overcharged, and the rain came
tearing down from the house-tops as if they had been mountain -tops.

Mrs. Parkins, my laundress — wife of Parkins the porter, then newly dead of a
dropsy— had particular instructions to place a bedroojn candle and a match under
the staircase lamp on my landing, in order that I might light my candle there,
whenever I came home. Mrs. Parkins invariably disregarding all instructions,
tlicy were never there. Thus it happened that on this occasion I. groped my way
into my sitting-room to find the candle, and came out to light it.

What were my emotions when, underneath the staircase lamp, shining with wet
as if he had never been dry since our last meeting, stood the mysterious Being
whom I had encountered on the steam-boat in a thunder-storm, two years before !
His prediction rushed upon my mind, and I turned faint.

" I said I'd do it," he observed, in a hollow voice, "and I have done it. May
I come in ? "

*' Misguided creature, what have you done? " I returned.

" I'll let you know," was his reply, " if you'll let me in."

Could it be murder that he had done ? And had he been so successful that he
wanted to do it again, at my expense ?

I hesitated.

" May I come in ? " said he.

I inclined my head, with as much presence of mind as I could command, and
he followed me into my chambers. There, I saw that the lower part of his face
was tied up, in what is commonly called a Belcher handkerchief. lie slowly
removed this bandage, and exposed to view a long dark beard, curling over his
i;pper lip, twisting about the comers of his mouth, and hanging down upon his
breast.

" What is this? " I exclaimed involuntarily, " and what have you become ? "

" I am the Ghost of Art ! " said he.

The effect of these words, slowly uttered in the thunder-storm at midnight, wa.s
appalling in the last degree. More dead than alive, I surveyed him in silence.

"The German taste came up," said he, *'and threw me out of bread. I am
ready for the taste now."

He made his beard a little jagged with his hands, folded his arms, and said,

"Severity!" • -. , •

I shuddered. It was so severe.

lie made his beard flowing on his breast, and, leaning both hands on the staff of
a carpet-broom which Mrs. Parkins had left among my books, said :

' ' Benevolence. "

I stood transfixed. The change of sentiment was entirely in the beard. TliC
man might have left his face alone, or had no face. The beard did eve-ything.

lie lay down, on his back, on my table, and with that action of his head threw
up his beard at the chin.

" That's death ! " said he.

:ked his beard a little

He got off my table and, looking up at the ceiling, qc
awry ; at the same time making it stick out before him.

"Adoration, or a vow of vengeance," he observed.

He turned his profile to m^., making his upper lip very bulgy with the upper
part of his beard.

" Romantic character," said he.

If

2l6

Out of Town.

:llt

1 1
I I

FIc looked sideways out of his beard, as if it were an ivy-bush. "Jealousy,"
s.ii] he. He gave it an ingenious twist in the air, and informed me that he wa>;
carou.ing. He made it shaggy with his fingers — and it v.as Despair; lank — and
it was avarice : tossed it all kinds of ways— and it was rage. The beard did
everything.

" I am the Ghost (jf Art,'' said he. "Two bob a-day now, and more when its
I ):igcr ! Hair's the true expression. There is no other. I SAii; I'd grow n,

AND I'VK CROWN IT, AND IT SHALL HAUNT YOU ! "

Ho iiJay have tumbled down stairs in (he dark, but he never walked down or
1.1:1 down. I looked over the banisters, and I was ^lone with the thunder.

Need I add more of my terrific fate? It has haunted me ever since. It glares
14)011 me from the walls of the Royal Academy, (except when Maclise subdues it
to his genius,) it fdls my soul with terror at the I'ritish Institution, it lures young
aitisl.i on to their destruction. Go where I will, the Ghost of Art, eternally
working the passions in hair, and expressing everything by beard, pursues mc.
TI18 [>rediction is accomplished, and the victim has no rest.

OUT OF TOWN.

Sitting, on a bright September morning, among my books and papers at my
oiten window on the cliff overhanging the sea-beach, I have the sky and ocean
framed before me like a beautiful picture. A beautiful picture, but with such
movement in it, such changes of light upon the sails of ships and wake of steam-
boats, such dazzling gleams of silver far out at sea, such fresh touches on the crisp
wave-tops as they break and roll towards me — a picture with such music in the
billowy rush upon the shingle, the blowing of morning wind through the corn-
sheaves where the farmers' waggons are busy, the singing of the larks, and the
(hstant voices of children at i)lay — such charms of sight and sound as all the
Galleries on earth can but poorly suggest.

So dreamy is the murmur of the .si.a below my window, that T may have been
lieie, for anything I know, one hundred years. Not that I have grown old, for,
daily on the neighbouring downs and grassy hill-sides, I find that I can still in
rcaion walk any distance, jump over anything, and climb up anywhere ; but, that
the sound of the ocean seems to have become so customary to my musings, and
ctlier realities seem so to have gone a-board ship and floated away over the horizon,
that, for aught I will undertake to the contrary, I am the enchanted son of the
Iviiig my father, shut up in a tower on the sea-shore, for protection against an old
slie-goblin who insisted on being my godmother, and who foresaw at the font —
wonderful creature ! — that I should get into a scrape before I was twenty-one. I
remember to have been in a City (my Royal parent's dominions, I suppose), ami
api^arently not long ago eitlier, that was in the dreariest condition. The principal
iiiluibitan'is Iiad all been c'langed into old newspapers, and in that form were pre-
serving Mieir whidow-blinds from dust, and wrapping all their smaller household
gods ni curl-papers. I walked through gloomy streets where every house was shut
lip and newspapered, and where my solitary footsteps echoed on the deserted pave-
iiuMits. In the pul)lic rides there were no carriages, no horses, no animated
existence, but a few sleepy policemen, and a few adventurous boys taking ad van -
tige of the devastation to swarm up the lamp-posts. In the Westward streets

Pavilionstone,

217

• "Jealousy,"
lie that he was
air; lank -and
The beard did

I more when its
-'i> GROW n,

liked down or

lunder.

ice. It glares

LISE subdues it

it lures younj;

Art, eternally

, pursues nic.

papers at my
ky and ocean
»ut with such
ake of steam -
s on the crisp
music in the
gh the corn-
arks, and the
id as all the

ly have been
own old, for, ^

can still in "
le ; but, that
musings, and

the horizon,
cl son of the
gainst an old
It the font—
enty-one. I
ippose), and
he principal
m were pre-
r houseliold
ise was shut
serted pave--
lo animated
king ad van -
ivard streets

there was no traffic ; in the Westward shops, no business. The water-patterns
which the 'Prentices had trickled out on the pavements early in the morning,
remained uneffaced by human feet. At the corners of mews, Cochin-China fowls
stalked gaunt and savage ; nobody being left in the deserted city (as it appeared to
me), to feed them. Public Houses, where splendid footmen swinging their legs
over gorgeous hammer-cloths beside wigged coachmen were wont to regale, were
silent, and the unusued pewter pots shone, too bright for business, on the shelves.
I beheld a Punch's Show leaning against a wall near Park Lane, as if it had
fainted. It was deserted, and there were none to heed its desolation. In
lielgrave Square I met the last man — an ostler — sitting oti a post in a ragged red
waistcoat, eating straw, and mildewing away.

If I recollect the name of (he little town, on whose shore this sea is murmuring
—but I am not just now, as I have premised, to be relied upon for anything — it is
Pavilionstone. Within a quarter of a century, it was a little fishing town, and
tlicy do say, that the time was, when it was a little smuggling town. I have
heard that it was rather famous in the hollands and brandy way, and that coevally
with that reputation the lamplighter's was considered a bad life at the Assurance
ofTices. It was observed that if he were not particular about lighting up, he lived
in peace ; but that, if he made the best of the oil-lamps in the steep and narrow
streets, he usually fell over the cliff ai an early age. Now, gas and electricity nm
to the very water's edge, and the South Eastern Railway Company screech at us
in the dead of night.

But, the old Mttle fishing and smuggling town remains, and is so tempting a
jilace for the latter purjwse, that I think of going out some night next week, in a
fur cap and a pair of petticoat trousers, and running an empty tub, as a kind of
archoeological pursuit. Let nobody with corns come to Pavilionstone, for there
are breakneck flights of ragged steps, connecting the principal streets by back-
ways, which will cripple that visitor in half an hour. These are the ways by
which, when I run that tub. I shall escape. I shall make a Thermopylie of the
corner ot one of them, def( . it with my cutlass against the coast-guard until my
brave companions have sheered off, then dive into the darkness, and regain my
Susan's arms. In connection with these breakneck steps I observe some ^\')oden
cottages, with tumble-down out-houses, and back-yards three feet square, adorned
with garlands of dried fish, in one of which (though the General IJoard of Health
might object) my Susan dwells.

The South-Easteni Company have brought Pavilionstone into such vogue, with
uaeir tidal trains and sjilenclid steam-packets, that a new Pavilionstone is rising up.
I am, myself, of New Pavilionstone. We are a little mortary and limey at present,
but we are getting on capitally. Indeed, we were getting on so fast, at one time,
that we rather overdid '*. and built a street of shops, the business of ,vhich may be
expected to arrive in about ten years. We are sensibly laid out in general ; and
with a little care and pains (by no means wanting, so far), shall become a very
pretty place. We ought to be, for our situation is delightful, our air is delicious,
and our breezy hills and downs, carpeted with wild thyme, and decorated with
millions of wild flowers, are, on the faith of a pedestrian, perfect. In New
Pavilionstone we are a little too much addicted to small windows with more bricks
in them than glass, and we are not over-fanciful in the way of decorative architec-
ture, and we get unexpected sea-views through cracks in the street dooi-s ; on the
whole, however, we are very snug and comfortable, and well accommodated. But
the Home Secretary (it there be such an officer) cannot too soon shut up the
burial-ground of the old parish church. It is in the midst of us, and Pavilionstone
will get no good of it, if it be too long left alone.

The lion of Pavilionstone is it? Great Hotel. A dozen years ago, going over to

-<•'
i

V

■iA

1 i

r^ %

218

Out of Timni.

Paris by South Eastern Tidal Steamer, you uscfl to he dropped upon the platform
of the main line I'avilionstone Station (not a junction then), at eleven o'clock on .1
dark winter's nij^ht, in a roarintj wind ; and in the howling wilderness outside the
station, was a short omnibus which brouf^ht you up by the forehead the instant you
jjot in at the door ; and nobody cared about you, and you were alone in the world.
Vou bumped over infinite chalk, until you were tur led out at a strange buildiug
which had just left off being a barn without having quite begun to be a house,
where nobody expected your coming, or knew what to do with you when you were
come, and where you were usually blown about, until you happened to be blown
against the cold beef, and finally into bed. At five in tlie morning you were blown
out of bed, and after a dreary breakfast, with crumpled company, in the midst of
confusion, were hustled on board a steam-boat and lay wretched on deck until you
saw France lunging and surging at you with great vehemence over the bowsprit.

Now, you come down to I'avilionstone in a free and easy manner, an irre-
sponsible agent, made over in trust to the South Eastern Company, until you got
out of the railway-carriage at high-water mark. If you arc crossing by the boat at
once, you have nothing to do but walk on board and be happy there if you can — I
can't. If you are going to our Great Pavilionstone Hotel, the sprightliest porters
under the sun, whose cheerful looks are a pleasant welcome, shoulder your luggage,
drive it off in vans, bowl it away in trucks, and enjoy themselves in playing athletic
games with it. If you arc for public life at our great Pavilionstone Hotel, you
walk into that establishment as if it were your club ; and find ready for you, your
news-room, dining-room, smoking-room, billiard-room, music-room, public break-
fast, public dinner twice a-day (one plain, one gorgeous), hot baths and cold baths.
If you want to be bored, there are plenty of bores always ready for you, and from
Saturday to Monday in particular, you can be bored (if you like it) through and
through. Should you want to be private at our Great Pavilionstone Hotel, say
but the word, look at the list of charges, choose your floor, name your figure —
there you are, established in your castle, by the day, week, month, or year,
innocent of all comers or goers, unless you have my fancy for walking early in the
morning down the groves of boots and shoes, which so regularly flourish at all the
chamber-doors before breakfast, that it seems to me as if nobody ever got up or
took them in. Are you going across the Alps, and would you like to air your
Italian at our Great Pavilionstone Hotel? Talk to the Manager — always
conversational, accomplished, and polite. Do you want to be aided, alietted,
comforted, or advised, at our Great Pavilionstone Hotel ? Send for the good
landlord, and he is your friend. Should you, or any one belonging to you, ever
be taken ill at our Cireat Pavilionstone Hotel you will not soon forget him or his
kind wife. And when you pay your bill at our Great Pavilionstone Hotel, you
will not be put out of humour by anything you find in it.

A thoroughly good inn, in the days of coaching and posting, was a noble place.
But no such inn would have been equal to the reception of four or five hundred
people, all of them wet through, and half of them dead sick, every day in the year.
This is where we shine, in our Pavilionstone Hotel. Again — who, coming and
going, pitching and tossing, boating and trainin ■, hurrying in, and flying out,
could ever have calculated the fees to be paid at a. old-fashioned house ? In our
Pavilionstone Hotel vocabulary, there is no such word as fee. Everything is done
for you •> every service is provided at a fixed and reasonable charge ; all the prices
are hung up in all the rooms ; and you can make out your own bill beforehand, as
well as the book-keeper.

In the case of your being a pictorial artist, desh'ous of studying at small expense
the physiognomies and beards of different nations, come, on receipt of this, to
Pavilionstone. You shall find all the nations of the earth, and all the styles of

ipon the platform

even o'clock on a
:rnes.s outside the
1(1 the instant you
one in the world.

strange building

to be a hoii.c^
u when you were
ned to be blown
: you were blown
'. in the midst of
)n deck until you

the bowsprit,
nanner, an irre-
ly, until you got
ig Iiy the boat at
ne if you can— I
rightliest porters
er your luggage,

playing athletic
tone Hotel, you
Jy for you, your I
ri, public break- i

and cold baths. |
r you, and from
it) through and
itone Hotel, say
e your figure—
lonth, or year,
:ing early in the
)urish at all the

ever got up or
ike to air your
uiager— always
aided, alietted,

I for the good <
Ig to you, ever
rget him or his
me Hotel, you

a noble place,
r five hundred
ay in the year,
o, coming and
nd flying out,
lOuse ? In our
ything is done
; all the prices
beforehand, as

small expense
ipt of this, to

II the styles of

Amusement ami Instruction.

zr

shaving and not shaving, hair cutting and hair letting alone, for ever flowing
' through our hotel. Couriers you shall see by hundreds ; fat leathern bags for five-
franc pieces, closing with violent snaps, like discharges of fire-arms, by tliousands;
i more luggage in a morning than, fifty years ago, all Europe saw in a week.
'•■ Lr)oking at trains, steam-boats, sick travellers, and luggage, is our great I'avilion-
(.tone recreation. We are not strong in other public amusements. We have a
Literary and vScientific Institution, ami we have a Working Men's Institution — m.ay
it hold many gipsy holidays in summer fields, with the kettle l)oiling, the band of
music playing, and the people dancing ; and may I be on the hill-side, looking on
with pleasure at a wholesome sight too rare in England ! — and we have two or
tlirce churches, and more chapels than I have yet added up. liut public amuse-
ments are scarce with us. If a poor theatrical manager comes with his comjxmy
to give us, in a loft, Mary Bax, or the Murder on the Sand Hills, wc don't care
much for him —starve him out, in fact. We take more kindly to wax-work,
especially if it moves ; in which case it keeps much clearer of the second
commandment than when it is still. Cooke's Circus (Mr. Cooke is mv frientl, and
always leaves a good name behind him) gives us only a night in passing through.
Nor does the travelling menagerie think us worth a longer visit. It gave us a
look-in the other day, bringing with it the residentiary van with the stained glass
windows, which Her Majesty kept ready-made at Windsor Castle, until she found
a suitable opportunity of submitting it for the proprietor's acceptance. I brought
away five wonderments fr'^m this cxhii)ilion. I have wonclered ever since, Whether
the beasts ever do get v d to those small places of confinement ; Whether the
monkeys have that very ho.rible flavour in their free state ; Whether wild animals
have a natural ear for time and tune, and therefore every four-footed creature Ijcgan
lo howl in despair when the band began to play ; What the giraffe does with his
neck when his cart is shut up ; and. Whether the elephant feels ashamed of himself
wlien he is brought out of his den to stand on his head in the presence of the whole
Collection.

We are a tidal harbor at Pavilionstone, as indeed I have implied already in my
mention of tidal trains. At low water, we are a heap of mud, with an empty
channel in it where a couple of men in l)ig boots always shovel and scoop : with
what exact object, I am unable to say. At that time, all the stranded fishing-boats
turn over on their sides, as if they were dead marine monsters ; the colliers and
other shipping stick disconsolate in the mud ; the steamers look as if their white
cliimneys would never smoke more, and their red paddles never turn again ; the
green sea-slime and weed upon the rough stones at the entrance, seem records of
obsolete high tides never more to flow ; the flagstaff-halyards droop ; the very little
wooden lighthouse shrinks in the idle glare of the sun. And here I may observe of
the very little wooden lighthouse, that when it is lighted at night, — red and green,
—it looks so like a medical man's, that several distracted husbands have at various
times been found, on occasions of premature domestic anxiety, going round and
round it, trying to find the Nightbell.

But, the moment the tide begins to make, the Pavilionstone Harbor begins to
revive. It feels the breeze of the rising water before the water comes, and begins
to flutter and stir. When the little shallow waves creep in, barely overlapping one
another, the vanes at the mastheads wake, and become agitated. As the tide
rises, the fishing-boats get into good spirits and dance, the flagstaff hoists a bright
red flag, the steam-boat smokes, cranes creak, horses and carriages dangle in the
air, stray passengers and luggage appear. Now, the shipping is afloat, and comes
up buoyantly, to look at the wharf. Now, the carts that have come down for
coals, load away as hard as they can load. Now, the steamer smokes immensely,
and occasionally blows at the paddle-boxes like a vaporous whale -greatly

',¥\'i:*' ;^';».-i,-,:. *jj.,.^

220

Out of the Season,

disturbing nervous loungers. Now, both the tide and tlie breeze have risen, ant
you are holding your hat on (if you want to see how the ladies hold tfuir hats on,
with a stay, passing over the broad brim and down the nose, come to I'avilionstonc).
Now, cverytliing in the harl)or splashes, dashes, and bobs. Now, the Dowti
Tidal Train is telegraphed, and you know (without knowing how you know), that
two hundred and eighty-seven people are coming. Now, the fishing-boats that have
been out, sail in at the top of the tide. Now, the bell goes, and the locomotive
hisses and shrieks, and the train comes gliding in, and the two hundred and eighty-
seven come scutlling out. Now, there is not only a tide of water, but a tide ol
people, and a tide of luggage— all tumbling and flowing and bouncing aljout
together. Now, after infinite bustle, the steamer steams out, and we (on the I'ier)
are all delighted when she rolls as if she would roll her funnel out, and are all
disappointed when she don't. Now, the other steamer is coming in, and tlie
Custom House prepares, and the wharf-labourers assemble, and the hawsers are
made ready, and the Hotel Porters come rattling down with van and truck, eai,'er
to begin more Olympic games with more luggage. And this is the wa) in which
we go on, down at I'avilionstone, every tide. And, if you want to live a life of
luggage, or to see it lived, or to breathe sweet air which will send you to sleep at a
moment's notice at any period of the day or night, or to disport yourself upon or in
the sea, or to scamper about Kent, or to come out of town for the enjoyment of all
or any of these ]>lcasures, come to Pavilionstone.

I

^w%'^V«/ti/W M W«>

OUT OF THE SEASON.

iiii-i

It fell to my lot, this last bleak Spring, to find myself in a watering-place out of
the Season. A vicious north-east squall blew me into it from foreign parts, and I
tarried in it alone for three days, resolved to be exceedingly busy.

On the first day, I began business by looking for two hours at the sea, and
staring the P'oreign Militia out of countenance. Having disposed of these impor-
tant engagements, I sat down at one of the two windows of my room, intent on
doing something desperate in the way of literary composition, and writing a
chapter of unheard-of excellence — with which the present essay has no connexion.

It is a remarkable quality in a watering-place out of the season, that everything
in it, will and must be looked at. I had no previous suspicion of this fatal truth ;
but, the moment I sat down to write, I began to perceive it. I had scarcely fallen
into my most promising attitude, and dipped my pen in the ink, when I found the
clock upon the pier — a redfaced clock with a white rim — importuning me in a
highly vexatious manner to consult my watch, and see how I was off for Greenwich
time. Having no intention of making a voyage or taking an observation, I had
not the least need of Greenwich time, and could have put up with watering-place
time as a sufficiently accurate article. The pier-clock, however, persisting, I felt
it necessary to lay down my pen, compare my w^it^ch with him, and fall into a
grave solicitude about half-seconds. I had taken up my pen again, and was about
to commence that valuable chapter, when a Custom-house cutter under the window
requested that I would hold a naval review of her, immediately.

It was impossible, under the circumstances, for any mental resolution, merely
human, to dismiss the Custom-house cutter, because the shadow of her topmast fell
upon my paper, and the vane played on the masterly blank chapter. I was
therefore under the necessity of going to the other window ; sitting astride of the

a iiidy

221

chair there, like Napoleon bivouacking in the print ; and inspecting the cutter a<i
slit lay, all, O ! that dav, in the way of my chapter. She was rigged to carry a
quantity of canvas, but her hull was so very small that four giants aboard of her
(three men and a lx)y) who were vigilantly scraping at her, all together, inspircil
me with a terror lest they should scrape her away. A fifth giant, wlio apjxiart to
consider himself "below" — as indeed 1.0 was, from the waist downwards —
meditated, in such close proximity with the little gusty chimney-nipe, that he seemed
to be smoking it. Several boys looked on from the wharf, and, when the gigantic
attention appeared to be fully occupied, one or other of these would furtively swing
himself in hiid-alr over the Custom-house cutter, by moans of a line ncndaiu from
her rigging, like a young spirit of the storm. Presently, a sixth liand brought
down two little water-casks ; presently afterwards, a truck came, and delivered a
hamper. I was now under an obligation to consider that the cutter was going on
a cruise, and to wonder where she was going, and when she was going, and why
she was going, and at what date she might be exjjcctf'd back, ami who commanded
her? \Vith these pressing questions I was fully occupied when the I'acket, making
ready to go across, and blowing off her spare steam, roared, " Look at me ! "

It became a positive duty to look at the i'acket preparing to go across ; aboard
of which, the i)eople newly come down by the railroad were hurrying in a great
fluster. The crew had got their tarry overalhj on —and one knew what that meant
—not to mention the white basins, ranged in neat little piles of a dozen each,
behind the door of the after-cal)in. One lady as 1 looked, one resigning and far-
seeing woman, took her basin from the store of crockery, as she might have taken
a refreshment-ticket, laid herself down on deck with that utensil at her car, muffled
her feet in one shawl, solemnly covered her countenance after the antique manner
wit!, another, and on the completion of these preparations appeared by the strength
of her volition to become insensible. The mail-bags (O that I myself had the
sea-legs of a mail-bag ! ) were tumbled aboard ; the Packet left off roaring, warped
out, and made at the white line upon the bar. One dip, one roll, one break of the
sea over her bows, and Moore's Almanack or the sage Raphael could not have
told me more of the state of things aboard, than I knew.

The famous chapter was all but begun now, and would have been quite begun,
but for the wind. It was blowing stiffly from the east, and it rumbled in the
chimney and shook the house. That was not much ; but, looking out into the
wind's grey eye for inspiration, I laid down my pen again to make the remark to
myself, how emphatically everything by the sea declarec that it has a great concern
in the state of the wind. The trees blown all one w.iy ; the defences of the harbor
reared highest and strongest against the raging point ; the shingle Hung up on the
beach from the same direction ; the number of arrows pointed at the common
enemy ; the sea tumbling in and rushing towards them as if it were inflamed by
the sight. This put it in my head that \ really ought to go out and take a walk in
the wind ; so, I gave up the magnificent chapter for that day, entirely persuading
myself that I was under a moral obligation to have a blow.

I Jiad a good one, and that on the high road — the very high road— on the top of
the cHfTs, where 1 met the stage-coach with all the outsides holding their hats on
and themselves too, and overtook a flock of sheep with the wool about their necks
blown into such great ruffs that they looked like fleecy owls. The wind playeil
upon the lighthouse as if it were a great whistle, the spray was driven over the sea
in a cloud of haze, the ships rolled and pitched heavily, and at intervals long slants
and flaws of light made mountain-steeps of communication between the ocean and
the sky. A walk of ten miles brought me to a seaside town without a cliff, which,
like the town I had come from, was out of the season too. Half of the houser
were shut up ; half of the other half were to let ; tlie town mi,i;ht have done as

<

■ji»^»"^%«^-

222

Out of the Season,

Ui '!'•

much business as it was (hjing then, if it h.-nl been at the bottom of the so.i.
Nobody seemed to flourish save the attorney ; his clerk's |)cn was K''i"K ''^ thy
bow-window of his woodtn house ; his brass door-phite aloiic was free from .n'l,
and had l)een poH^hed up that morning. On the beach, amon^; the rouj^di hi

t>.-.

IT-

and capstans, y;roups of storm-beaten boatmen, hke a sort of marine monsters,
watched under the Ico of those objects, or slood leaninj; forward against the w iiul,
looking out through battered spy-glasses. The parlor l)ell in the Admiral lionhou
had grown so Hat with being out (;f the season, that neither could I hear it riii"
when I pulled the handle for lunch, nor could the young woman in black stockini;,
and strong shoes, who acted as waiter out of the season, until it had been tinkkM
three times.

Admiral Benbow's cheese was out of the season, but his home-made bread ua-
good, and his l)eer was perfect. Deluded by some earlier spring day which ha!
been warm and sunny, the Admiral had clearcil the firing out of his parlor stove,
and had put some flower-pots in — which was amiable and lu>' eful in the Admiral,
but not judicious : the room being, at that present visiting, transcendantly cold.
I therefore took the liberty of peeping out aciT>ss a little stone passage into the
Admiral's kitchen, and, seeing a high settle with its back towards me drawn out
in front of the Admiral's kitchen fire, I strolled in, bread and cheese in hand,
munching and looking about. One landsman and two boatmen were seated on '.ho
settle, smoking pipes and drinking beer out of thick pint crockery mugs —muL;>

t>eculiar to such ])races, with parti-coloured rings round them, and ornamenl^
>etweenthe rings like frayed-out roots. The landsman was relating his experience,
as yet only three nights old, of a fearful running-down case in the Channel, o;i.:l
therein presented to my imagination a sound of music that it will not soon forget.

"At that identical moment of time," said he (he was a prosy man by nature,
who rose with his subject), "the night being light r.nd calm, but with a grey mist
upon the water that didn't seem to spread lor more than two or tlu^"^ mile, I was
walking up and down the wooden causeway next the pier, off where it happened,
along with a friend of mine, which his name is Mr. Clocker. Mr. Clocker is a
grocer over yonder." (From the direction in which he pointed the bowl of hi.,
pipe, I might have judged Mr. Clocker to b( a merman, established in the grocery
trade in five-and-twenly fathoms of water.) "We were smoking our pipes, and
walking up and down the causeway, talking of one thing and talking of another,
\\'e were quite alone there, except that a few hovellers" (the Kentish name for
'long-sliore boatmen like his companions) " were hanging about their lugs, waiting
while the tide made, as hovellers will." (One of the two boatmen, thoughtfully
regarding me, shut up one eye ; this I understood to mean : first, that he took me
into the conversation : secondly, that lie confirmed the proposition : thirdly, that
he announced himself as a hoveller. ) "All of a sudden Mr. Clocker and me
stood rooted to the spot, by hearing a sound come through the stillness, right over
the sea, like a great sornnvfiil Jhite or yEolian harp. We didn't in the least know
what it was, and judge of our surprise when we saw the hovellers, to a man, leap
into the boats and tear about to hoist sail and get off, as if they had every one of
'em gone, in a moment, raving mad ! But iJiey knew it was the cry of distress
from the sinking emigrant ship."

When I got back to my watering-place out of the season, and had done my
twenty miles in good style, I found that the celebrated Black Mesmerist intended
favouring the public that evening in the Hall of the Muses, which he had engaged
for the purpose. After a good dinner, seated by the fire in an easy chair, I began
to waver in a design 1 had formed of waiting on the Black Mesmerist, and to incline
towards the expediency of remaining where I was. Indeed a point of gallantry w as
involved in my doing so, inasmuch as 1 had not left France alone, but had come .

\\\

hei
carl

Deserted.

223

; bottom of the sea.
>cn was [!,<nn^ j,, ,)"*|
ic was frt'c from ^aa I
>ng the lou^rh lugt^crJ
of marine m<)nNkr>,
ird a^'ainst the wind'
the Admiral Jioiih.nv
could I hear it rjn.-
ui in I.lack stockiiii;'^
it had been tinl<k,|

)me-made bread \\.v
"iiig day whicli ha 1
i>f lii.s ])arl()r slovc,
eful in the Admiial'
•ranscendantly cold.'
ne passage into (he
^irds me drawn out
id cheese in liaiid.

I were seated on '.ho
)ckery mugs— miicj,
Mil, and ornament-,
iting hisexperiencx',
n the Cliannel, 0:.,:!

II not soon forget.
osy man by nature,
It with a grey mi^t

tin-- mile, I Mas
licrc it happened,
Mr. docker is a
d the bowl of hi.
ihed in the grocery
iig our pipes, and
alking of another.
Kentish name for
their lugs, waiting-
men, thoughtfully
t, that he took me
ion : thirdly, tliat
Clocker and nic
illness, right over
in the least know-
is, to a nun, leap
■ had every one «jf
he cry of distress

id had done my
esmerist intended
I he had engaged
sy chair, I began
ist, and to inclino
t of gallantry was
e, but had come

Ipmi the prisons of St. Pclagie with my distinguislied and unfortunate friend
.Madame Ro'and (in tw») volumes which I l)ought for two francs each, at the book-
stall in the I'lace de la Concorde, Paris, at the corner of the Rue Koyale).
Deciding to pass the evening tete-i-lete with Madame Rolantl, I derived, as I
always do, great i)leasure from that spiritual woman's society, ami the charms of
her brave soul and engaging conversation. 1 must confess that if she had only
.some more faults, only a few m<jre passionate failings of any kind, I might love her
better; but I am content to believe that the deficiency is in me, and not in her.
We spent some sadly interesting hours '.■ g,.lher on this occasion, nnd she told me
again of her cruel discharge from the Abbaye, and of her being re-arrested before
lii.r free feet had sprung lightly up half-a-dozen steps of her own stairca.se, and
carried off to the prison which she only left for the guillotine.

Madame Roland and I took leave of one another l)eforc midnight, and I went to
hod full of vast intentions for next day, in connexion with the unparalleled chapter.
To hear the foreign mail-steamers coming in at ilawn of day, and to know that I
was not aboard or obliged to gel up, was very comfortable ; so, I rose for the
chapter in great force.

I had advanced so far as to sit down at my window again on my second morning,
and to write the first half-line of the chapter and strike it out, not liking it, when
my conscience reproached me with not having surveyed the watering-place out of
the season, after all, yesterday, but with having gone straight out of it at the rate
of four miles and a lialf an hour. Obviously the best amends that I could make for
this remissness was to go and look at it without another moment's delay. .So--
altogether as a matter of duty I gave up the magnificent chapter for another day,
and sauntered out with my hands in my pockets.

All the houses and lodgings ever let to visitors, were to let that morning. It
seemed to have snowed bills with To Let upon them. This put me upon thinking
what the owners of all those apartments did, out of the season ; how they employecl
their time, and occupied their mind.s. They coidd not be always going to the
Methodist chapels, of which I passed one every other minute. They must have
some other recreation. Whether they pretended to take one aiujther's lodgings,
and opened one another's tea-caddies in fun ? Whether they cut slices off their
own beef and mutton, and made believe that it belonged to somebody else ?
Whether they played little dramas of life, as children do, and said, "I ought to
come and look at your apartments, and you ought to ask two guineas a-week too
much, and then I ought to say I must have the rest of the day to think of it, arid
then you ought to say that another lady and gentleman m ith no children in family
had made an offer veiy close to your o vn terms, and you had passed your word to
L^^ive them a positive answer in half an hour, and indeed were just going to take the
i)ill down when you heard the knock, and then I ought to take them you know ? "
Twenty such speculations engaged my thoughts. Then, after passing, still clinging
to the walls, defaced rags of the bills of last year's Circus, 1 came to a back field
near a timber-yard where the Circus itself had been, and where there was yet a sort
of monkish tonsure on the grass, indicating the spot where t) ■ young lady had gone
round upon her pet steed Firefly in her daring flight. Turnuiginto the lOwn again,
I came among the shops, and they were emphatically out of the season. The
chemist had no boxes of ginger-beer powders, no beautifying sea-side soaps and
washes, no attractive scents ; nothing but his great goggle-eyed red bottles, looking
as if the winds of winter and the drift of the salt-sea had infla'iicd them. The
grocers' hot pickles, Harvey's Sauce, Doctor Kitchener's Zest, Anchovy Paste,
Dundee Marmalade, and the whole stock of luxurious helps to appetite, were hy-
bernating somewhere under-ground. The china-shop had no trifles from anywhere.
The Bazaar had given in altogether, and iDicsentcd a notice on tlie shutters that

"i

;.;;;_tj^!;rQrig»)i'.5iAaSilJli)'Mj

hj«

,i \-

•f'

*li"

ilP

124

Oui vf the Season,

this rslublislimcnt wmiM it oprn nl WliKsimli'Ic, ntvl tlinl ihr' jirnprlotur in ilir
tnoantimr niij^lit W lionul of ill Wild l-ndj^r, I'.nsl ( lift. At llir Sen Imlliiiijj I'a|;i
|tli«ilnnrnl, n inw «»f ihhI littlo wdutldi lioiim^ seven or ci^ht frrt lii^li, I saw \U^
|)inpii('tui- ill Itc'il ill tlir slidwot-lmlli. As l«i tlir balliini; uuk liinc?, tliry were (Imw
iIh'y j^'ul tlinr, i'; ixtl fui ino lo sf\y) iU tlic (np (i( a liill at Icnsl a inilo and n li;i|(
oil. The liliiarv, wliirli I had nrv«M seen ollici \vis(» lliaii wide n|icn, was ti^iil slml ;
Qiid two previHli Itald old ^ciilU-mcn scniicd to lie liciinclically srnlcd up iimiih,
elnnaliy iradinj; llir pap< r. 'J lial Wftiidciriil niy^toiy, llir iiiiisii simp, cnrricd il
olT as usual (oxiepl (liat il liad iiiorr raliiiicl pianos in sloik), as if season or ii'i
season wi'K" all one lo il, Il in;id(> the same prodigious display of hii^lit Itia/ni
wind insirunienis, liorriMy hvisled, worth, as I shouUl eoiueive, sonic thousands
ol pound';, and uhirli il is utleily inmossihle that anvliody in any season cnn ev( 1
l>!ay or want (o play. Il had live tiianj^lcs in llie wnnlow, six pairs of caslnncts,
ami thrt"e harps ; hUewiso every polka with a tolouied rroiitisniece thai ever wns
p\d)lisheil ; from the oii^inal one where a finoolh male and female Tole of lii|;|i
lanU aic eomiiif^ at the observer with their arms a kindto, to the Kaleatdw 1 s
ihui^jhter. Aslonishini; estahlishmenl, ama/inj; eni^;ma ! 'I'hiee other shoi»s \v<({<
pretty nuu h out of the season, what they were tisrd to lir in il. I'irsf, ihc sli(i|i
wheie they sell the sail . •' watehes, which had still llie old ( olleeliou of cnormi'm
tinteUeepers, apparently lesi^ned to hreak a fall Ironi Ihe masthead : with jihucs In
wind ihem up, hke liicplu^s. Secondly, the shop where they sell 'he sailui,'
t lolhinj;, whit h di.plaved the old sou' westers, ami the old oily suits, and the old
pea jaekel'., and the old one sea-ehest, with its handles liki- w jiairof rope ear-riiij^;-.
Thirdlv, the uiu lianj;eal»h" shop for the sale of lilcialure that has been left hchiinl.
Here, Dr. I'auslus was still f^om^ down to veryicd and yellow perdition, under the
supei intendeiu e of three {Mien peisonajjes of a s« aly huimuir, with exeieseenli;il
serpents ^;l«»win|; oiil of tlirir l>lad«' Imiies. Ileie, Ihe (loldeii l)ieaiiier, nnd Ilic
Norwood I'ortune 'I'eller, were still on sale al sixpeiiee caeli, wilh instrueliuiis for
r.iakinj; llie dumheake. and readiii)^ tlestinies in tea-e'.'iis. and wilh a picture of a you'ij;
woman wilh a hij;h waist lyinj; on a sola in an altilmle so uneoinfcHtable as iilnioi
to aceount fm' her dieamine al one and the same time of a eoiillnj^ralion, n slii|i
wieek, nil carthtpiake, a skeleton, a < Imreh-poreh, lij^hlninj;, funerals performed,
nnd a y«>unj; man in a lui^ht blue eoal and eaiiaiy pantaloons. Here, were l.illl"
Warblers and I'airburn's I'omie .Sonj;sleis. Here, too, were balkids on ihe oM
ballad paper and in Ihe old confusion t)f types ; with an tild man in a eockcd luil,
and an aiin-ehair, for the illustration lo Will Wateh the bold Smui'^der ; and the
I'riar ol Orders (Irey, represented by a lillle i^\\\ in a hoop, witli a ship in the
cli«.laneo. All these as of yore, when they were iiilinite delij^hts lo mc !

It look me so long fully to relish the^c many enjoyments, thai I had not more
than an hour before bedtime to devote to Madame Kol.md. We gnt ,)n admirably
together «)n the subjt'et of her eonvent ed\Kation. and I rose next morning witii
Ihe full conviction that the day for the great chaiiler was al last arrived.

It hail fallen calm, however, in the night, ami as I sal al breakfast I l)luslied to
vcmend)er diat I had not yet been on the howns. I a walker, and not yet on the
Downs ! Really, on so quiet and bright a morning this imisl be set right. As an
essential part of the Whole Duty of Man. iheiefcue, 1 left the ehnpler to itself- for
the jiresent and went on the Downs. They were wonderfully green and beautiful,
and gave me n g*iod deal to do. When I had done w ilh the free nir nnd the view,
1 had to go down into the valley aiul look after the hojis (which I know nothing
about), nnd to be ecpially solicitous as lo the cherry orcnnnls. Then I took it on
myself to cr,.ss examine a tramping family in black (mother nllcged, I have no
do\d)t by herself in person, to have died last week), nnd tu accompany eighteen-
[i.-uce which producetl n gre.»t cflect, with moral admonitions winch produced none

^feflii^i^laii

propriofor in lltr
Si-n-ltafliinf/ I'"aI;i

'I Ilijill, I JdVi llir

?s, tlicy were (how

I mile iitxl n luilf

II, wns li^'ht slim ;

' srnlcd dp iimi.lr,

icslmp, cnrricti it

>; if scfiRon or no

/ ui Idif^lil l»ia/rii

, some llioiisniKJs

ly Boamm (an rvi i

pairs of taslaiuk,

;cc dial ever Wii';

iinlc I'olc of lii^li

llic l<aU;al(llri\

olliri '.hops w ic

I'irsf, (lie sIh.|i

lion of ciMiinimi;

i.\ : with pliuc. Id

' Rcll ''ic «*ailoi'.'

RuitK, and llir oM

of i(»))r earring; .,

iiccn I'.'fl Ijcliiiid,

nlilion, under llic

villi cx(;iesceiili;i|

)reainer, and Ilir

h instriutiuns foi

pidnreof a yoii'i);

Mlahic as aliiio' I

tfMalion, a sliip

crals pcifonnetj,

Icre, were l,iltl"

liids (Ml the old

in a cocked lial,

iii;j;ler ; and llie

til a ship in Ihc

mc I

had not more
t on admiral liy
I morning' wilii
ived.

sl I blushed to
I not yet on the
I iij;1il. As nil
er to itself— for
1 and beautiful,
and the view,
know nothing'
n I took it on
«l, I have no
:)any eighteen-
produced none

^i/to/>inyj,if}hi(ti/. 2 2^

nl all. I'inally, it was late in the aflernoon before f [nA back to flic uriprc(;edenfc<l
( liiijiter, and then I dcletiiiiiird that it wa=; out of tlic season, a^ Ihe place was, and
put il awiiy.

I went al iiijdil to llif bciedl of Mi;, li. \Vrd^iiij^t<»n al the 'Iholre, wlir» f)ad
pliKaided the town with the adinoii'tiori, "|)n,M'r I'okoKr nl" I made the
house, necor(bnj^ to my (ah illation, four and ninepriKe to be(,'in with, and it rr-ay
have warmed up, in the ((»iiise of the evening, to half a sovereij^jn. '/"here was
nollii;ij; to ollcnd any one, the (,joof| Mr. liiiincs (»f f,eeds ex(:("|»te'l. Mr^, l5.
WcdfMti^^ion sanj/ to a ^rari'i piano. Mi. I',. VVcd^jinj^tfui did the like, and also
look (.If (lis coat, tii(kfd up Jiis Itousrr-, and (lanced in ( lo^'s. Master \'>.
\Ve(l^'iiij;l(Mi, n\!v(\ ten months, was nursed by a shivering y(;un^ pers(Hi in th'j
boxes, aii'l the eye (»f Mis. I'. \Ve(|^iii|ftoii wandered that way nu^re than '^ricc.
I'eaee be with all the Wedjmifjtons (r(;m A. to /, May they find themselves in
the Season F;oinewlierc I

fV^V/ ^rs^^ts.t^^t'

^^^^•K^*,*^ A-^^^^f% ^r^J^ .«•

A POOR MAN'S TALI-: OI' A PATICNT.

I AM not used lo writin/r for print. What workin^'-man, that never Iabour.9
less (soiTie Mondays, and (hiistmas 'I'ir.ic: ati'l iCa-.tor Time exccpte I) than twelve
or fourteen hours a day, is? lUit 1 have been asked to [>ut down, plain, what I
have (;ot to say ; ati'l so I take pcn-and ink, and d'> it to the best of rny power,
hopinj^f defecls^will find excuse.

I was born, nij^h London, but have workel in a shop at F'lirminjdiam (what you
would call Manufact(Hies, we (all .Shojis), alm()st ev<'r siiK e f was f»iit of my time,
I sc-veil my np|>renticesliip at l)eptford, ni^li where \ was b(;rn, and I am a smith
liy trade. My name is John. I have be(;n called ** Old John " ever since F was
nineteen year of aj^e, on account of not having much hair. F nm fifty six year of
a(;e al the present lime, and I don't find myself with m(<re hair, n(;r yet with less,
to sif^nify, than at nineteen year of age aforesaid.

F have been married five and thirty year, come next April. 1 was marrie(l on
All l''o(;ls' F)ay. F,ellliem laugh that win. F won a go(<d wife that 'lay, and it
was as .sensible a day to mc as ever I had.

We have had a matter (jf ten children, six wh(;reof are living. My eldest son is
engineer in the Italian .steam-packet " Mez/o Oiorno, plying between Marseilles
ati'l Naples, and calling at (leiuni, Leghorn, and ( ivita Ve(chia." He was a gf>(xl
workman. IFc invented a many useful little thing's that brought him in — nothinpj.
T have two sons doing well at Sydney, New South Wales — single, when la.st heard
from. One ()f my sons (James) went wild and for a soldier, where he was shot in
fiidia, living six weeks in lKjs|>;tal with a musket-ball lodged in his shf>ulder-bladc,
which he wrote with his own hafid. FFe was the best lo(>kirig. One of rny two*
(laughters (Mary) is comfortable in her circumstances, but water on the chest.
The (jlher (Charlotte), her husl)and run away from her in the basest manner, and
she and her three children live with us. 'ihe youngest, six year old, has a turn
for mechanics.

I am not a Chartist, and I never was. F don't mean to say but what I s'.c a
many public Doinls to comi '

go

lyp

J

'P

way

them right. If I did think so, I should be a (-'hartist. JJut I don't think so, and
I am not a Chartist. 1 read the paper, and hear discussif^n, at what we call

.^

226

A Poor Man's Tale of a Patent.

r • i ! I (i

if

;1>

**a parlor," in Birmingham, and I know many good men and workmen who arc
Chartists, Note. Not Physical force.

It won't be took as boastful in me, if I make the remark (for I can't put down
■what I have got to say, without putting that down before going any further), that
I have always been of an ingenious turn. I once got twenty pound by a screw,
and it's in use now. I have been twenty year, off and on, completing an Invention
and perfecting it. I perfected of it, last Christmas Eve at ten o'clock at night.
Me and my wife stood and let some tears fall over the Model, when it was done
and I brought her in to take a look at it.

A friend of mine, by the name of William Butcher, is a Cliartist. Moderate.
He is a good speaker. He is very animated. I have often heard him deliver that
what is, at every turn, in the way of us working-men, is, tliat too many places
have been made, in the course of time, to provide for people that never ought to
have been provided for ; and that a\'c have to obey iorms and to pay fees lo support
those places when we shouldn't ought. "True," (delivers William Butcher), "all
the public has to do this, but it falls heaviest on the working-man, because he has
least to spare ; and like\\'ise because impediments shouldn't be put in his Avay,
when he wants redress of wrong or furtherance of right." Note. I have v/rote
down those words from William Butcher's own mouth. W. B. delivering them
fresh for the aforesaid purpose.

Now, to my Mo'I?! again. There it was, perfected of, on Christmas Eve, gone
nigh a year, at ten o'clock at night. All the money I could spare I had laid out
upon the Model ; and when times was bad, or my daughter Charlotte's children
sickly, or both, it had stood still, months at a spell. I had pulled it to pieces, and
made it over again with improvements, I don't know how often. There it stood,
at last, a perfected Model as aforesaid.

W^illiam Butcher and me had a long talk, Christmas Day, respecting of the
Model. William is ve^-y sensible. But sometimes cranky. William said,
"What will you do with it, John ? " I said, "Patent it." William said,
"How patent it, John?" I said, "Bytakirg out a Patent." William then
delivered that the law of Patent was a cruel wrong. William said, "John, if you
make your invention public, before you get a Patent, any one may rob you of the
fruits of your hard work. You are put in a cleft stick, John. Either you must
drive a bargain very nuich against yourself, by getting a party to come forward
beforehand with the great expenses of the Patent ; or, you must be put about,
from post to pillar, among so many parties, tiying to make a belter bargain fui
yourself, and showing your invention, that your invention will be took from you
over your head. " I said, " William Butcher, are you cranky? You are some-
times cranky." William said, " No, John, I tell you the truth ;" which he then
delivered more at length. ' I said to W. B. I would Patent the invention
myself.

My wife's brother, George Bury of West Bromwich (his wife unfortunately took
to drinking, made away with everything, and seventeen times committed to Birming-
ham Jail before happy release in eveiy point of view), left my wife, his sister, when
he died, a legacy of one hundred and twenty-eight pound ten, Bank of England
Stocks. Me and my wife never broke into that money yet. Note. We might
come to be old and past our work. We now agreed to Patent the invention. We
said we would make a hole in it— I m^an in the aforesaid money — and Patent the
invention. William Butcher wrote me a letter to Thomas Joy, in London. T. J.
is a carpenter, six foot four in height, and plays quoits well. He lives in Chelsea,
London, by the church. I got leave from the shop, to be took on again when I
come back. I am a good workman. Not a Teetotaller ; but never drunk.
When the Christmas holidays were over, I went up to London by the rarliamen-

orkmen who are

can't put down
my further), that
luncl by a screw,
ing an rnvcntion
)'clock at night,
len it was done

tist. Moderate,
liim deliver that
oo many places
t never ought to
y fees lo support
.1 Butcher), "all
because he has
:)ut in his way,
I have wrote
delivering them

itmas Eve, gone
: I had laid out
rlotte's children
it to pieces, and
There it stood,

ipecting of the

William said,

William said,

William then

** John, if you

ob you of the

ther you must

come forward

be put about,

er bargain for

ook from you

ou are sonie-

hich he then

the invention

iQ

rtunately took
I to Birming-
s sister, when
ik of England
We might
i^ention. We
nd Patent the
mdon. T. J.
s in Chelsea,
igain when I
"lever drunk.
Parliamen-

'f

P 1: (•

A POOR MAN S TALE OF A I'ATENT.

Ill

-l; 1.1:

A'\ I

! ' !

i Ti^

A Costly Pilgrimage.

227

tnry Train, and hired a lodging for a week with Thomas Joy. He is married.
He has one son gone to sea.

Thomas Joy deUvered (from a liook he had) that the first step to be took, in
Patenting the invention, was to prepare a petition imto Queen Victoria. William
Hutclier had delivered similar, and drawn it up. Note. William is a ready
writer. A declaration before a Master i.i Chancery was to be added to it. That,
we likewise drew up. After a deal of trouble I found out a Master, in South-
ampton lUiildings, Chancery Lane, nigh Temple Bar, where I made the
declaration, and paid eighteen-pcnce. 1 wa'^ told to take the declaration and
petition to the Home Office, in Whitehall, where I left it to be signed by the
Home Secretary (after I had found the office out), and where I paid two pound,
two, and sixpence. In six days he signed it, and I was told to take it to the
Attorney-General's chambers, and leave it there for a report. I did so, and paid
four pound, four. Note. Nobody all through, ever thankful for their money, but
all uncivil.

My lodging at Thomas Joy's was now hired for another week, whereof 'ive
days were gone. The Attorney-General made what they called a Report-of-
course (my invention being, as William Butcher had delivered before starting,
unopposed), and I was sent back with it to the Home Office. They made a Copy
of it, which was called a Warrant. For thii warrant, I paid seven pound, thirteen,
and six. It was sent to the Queen, to sign. The Queen sent it back, signed.
The Home Seci^etary signed it again. The gentleman throwed it at me when I
called, and said, " Now take it to the Patent Office in Lincoln's Inn." I was
then \\\ my third week at Thomas Joy's living very sparing, on account of fees. I
found myself losing heart.

At the Patent Office in Lincoln's Inn, they made *' a draft of the Queen's bill,"
of my invention, and a " docket of the bill." I paid five pound, ten, and six, for
this. They "engrossed two copies of the bill ; one for the Signet Office, and one
for the Privy-Seal Office." I paid one pound, seven, and six, for this. Stamp
duty over and above, three pound. The Engrossing Clerk of the same office
engrossed the Queen's ^nll for signature. I paid him one pound, one. Stamp-
duty, again, one pound, ten. I was next to take the Queen's bill to the Attorney-
General again, and get it signed again. I took it, and paid five pound more. I
fetched it away, and took it to the Home Secretary again. He sent it to the Queen
again. She signed it again. J paid seven pound, thirteen, and six, more, for this.
I had been over a month at Thomas Joy's. I was quite wore out, patience and
pocket.

Thomas Joy delivered all this, as it went on, to W^illiam Butcher. William
Butcher delivered it again to three Birmingham Parlors, from which it got to all
the other Parlors, and was took, as I have been told since, right through all the
shops in the North of England. Note. William Butcher delivered, at his Parlor,
in a speech, that it was a Patent way of making Chartists.

But I hadn't nigh done yet. The Queen's bill was to be took to the Signet
Office in Somerset House, Strand — where the stamp shop is. The Clerk of the
Signet made "a Signet bill for the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal." I paid him
four pound, seven. The Clerk of the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal made "a
Privy- Seal bill for the Lord Chancellor." I paid him, four pound, two. The
Priv)'-Seal bill was handed over to the Clerk of the Patents, who engrossed the
aforesaid. I paid him, five pound, seventeen, and eight ; at the same time, I Gg'^g
Stamp-duty.for the Patent, in one lump, thirty pound. I next paid foti/pt\n woods
the Patent," nine and sixpence. Note. Thomas Joy would bj^g the'animal that
at a pioht for eighteen- pence. 1 next paid "fees to t
Chai'cellor's Purse-bearer," two pound, t.vo. I

np^

I \

\i

i'-i

dj,;

1;

if

#«^#

. •^^

•«

228

A Foor Man's Talc of a Patent.

! ^^1

'I i

the Ilanapcr," seven pound, thirteen. I next paid "fees to the Deputy Clerk of
the Ilanaper," ten siiillings. I next paid, to the Lord Chaneellor ay;ain, one
])ound, eleven, and six. Last of all, I paid "fees tt) the Deputy Se.iler, and
Deputy Chaff- wax," ten shillings and sixpence. I had lodged at Thomas Joy's over
six weeks, and the unopposed Patent for my invention, for l'>ng!and only, had cost
me ninety-six pound, seven, and eightpence. If I had taken it out for the United
Kingdom, it would have cost me more than three hunched pound.

Now, teaching had not come up but very limited when I was young. So mu^h
the worse for me you'll say. I say the same. William Butcher is twenty year
younger than me. He knows a hundred year more. If W'illiani Butcher had
wanted to Patent an invention, he might have been sharjicr than myself when
hustled backwards and forwards among all those offices, though I doubi if so
patient. Note. William being sometimes cranky, and consider porters, messen-
gers, and clerks.

Thereby I say nothing of my being tired of my life, while I was Patenting iny
invention. But I put this : Is it reasonable to make a man feel as if, in inventing
an ingenious improvement meant to do good, he had done something wrong?
How else can a man feel, when he is met by such difficulties at every turn ? All
inventors taking out a Patent must feel so. And look at the expense. How
hard on me, and how hard on the country if there's any merit in me (and my
invention is took up now, I am thankful to say, and doing well), to pat me to all
that expense before I can move a finger ! ^lake the addition yourself, and it'll
come to ninety-six pound, seven, and eightpence. No more, and no less.

What can I say against William Butcher, about places? Look at the Home
Secretary, the Attorney-General, the Patent Office, the Engrossing Clerk, the
Lord Chancellor, the Privy Seal, the Clerk of the Patents, the Lord Chancellor's
Purse-bearer, the Clerk of the Ilanaper, the Deputy Clerk of the Ilanaper, the
Deputy Sealer, and the deputy ChatT-wax. No man in England could get a
Patent for an Indian-rubber band, or an iron-hoop, without feeing all of them.
Some of them, over and over again. I went through thirty-five stages. 1 began
with the Queen upon the Throne. I ended with the Deputy Chaff-wax. Note.
I should like ^o see the Deputy Chaff- wax. Is it a man, or what is it ?

What I had to tell, I have told. I have wrote it down. I hope it's plain.
Not so much in the handwriting (though nothing to boast of there), as in the sense
of it. I will now conclude with Thomas Joy. Thomas said to me, when we
parted, "John, if the laws of this country were as honest as they ought to be, you
would have come to London — registered an exact description and drawing of your
invention — paid half-a-crown or so for doing of it— -and therein and thereby have
got your Patent."

My opinion is the same as Thomas Joy. Further. In W^illiam Butcher's
delivering " that the whole gang of Hanapers and Chaff- waxes nuist be douQ away
with, and that England has been chaffed and waxed sufiicient," I agree.

}

X'puty Clerk of
ellor again, one
nity Scaler, and
lomas Joy's over
d only, had cost
t for the United

ung. So niu;]i
T is twenty year
\n Butcher had
an myself when
I (loubi if so
")orters, messen-

) Patenting iny
if, in inventing
lelhing wrong?
cry turn ? All
expense. How
in me (and my
) pat nie to all
urself, and it'll
10 less.

k at the Home
ing Clerk, the
rd Chancellor's
; Hanaper, the
id could get a
g all of them,
ages. I began
ff-wax. Note.

it?
lope it's plain.

as in the sense

me, Avhen we
ight to be, you

awing of your
thereby have

am Butcher's
be done fVWay
ree.

}

Mr. Cat/in and his Friends.

229

THE NOBLE SAVAGE.

To come to tlie point at once, T beg to say tint T have not tlie least belief in
the Noble Savage. I consider him a prodigious nuisance, and an enormous
superstition. His calling rum fire-water, n\M\ me a pale face, wholly fail to reconcile
me to him. I don't care what he calls m.e. I call him a savage, and I call a savage
a something highly desirable to be civilised off the face of the earth. I think a mere
gent (which I take to be the lowest form of civilisation) better than a howling,
whistling, clucking, stamping, jumping, tearing savage. It is all one to me,
whether he sticks a fish-bone through his visage, or bits of trees through the lobes
of his cars, or bird's feathers in his head ; whether he flattens his hair between two
boards, or spreads his nose over the breadth of his face, or drags his lower lii>
down by great weights, or blackens his teeth, or knocks them out, or paints one
cheek red and the other blue, or tattoos himself, or oils himself, or rubs his body
with fat, or crimps it with knives. Yielding to whichsoever of these agreeable
eccentricities, he is a savage — cruel, false, thievish, murderous ; addicted more or
less to grease, entrails, and beastly customs ; a wild animal with the questionable
gift of boasting ; a conceited, tiresome, bloodthirsty, monotonous humbug.

Yet it is extraordinary to observe hov/ some people will talk about him, as they
talk about the good old times ; how they will regret his disappear.tn e, in the
course of this world's development, from such and such lands where his absence is
a blessed relief aiul an indispensable preparation for the sowing of the very first
seeds of any influence that can exalt humanity ; how, even with the evidence of
himself before them, they will either be determined to believe, or will suffer them-
selves to be persuaded into believing, that he is something which tlieir five senses
tell them he is not.

There was Mr. Catlin, some few years ago, with his Ojibbeway Indians. Mr.
Catlin was an energetic earnest man, who had lived among more tribes of Indians
than I need reckon up here, and who had written a picturesque and glowing
book about them. With his party of Indians squatting and spitting on the table
before him, or dancing their miserable jigs after their own dreary manner, he
called, in all good faith, upon his civilised audience to take notice of their
symmetry and grace, their perfect limbs, and the exquisite expression of their
pantomime ; and his civilised audience, in all good faith, complied and admired.
Whereas, as mere animals, they were wretched creatures, very low in the scale
and very poorly formed ; and as m.en and women possessing any power of
truthful dramatic expression by means of action, they were no better than the
chorus at an Italian Opera in England — and would have been worse if such a
thing were possible.

Mine are no new views of \.\\v. noble savage. The greatest writers on natural
history found him out long ago. Buffon knew what he was, and showed why
he is the sulky tyrant that he is to his women, and how it happens (Heaven be
praised !) that his race is spare in numbers. For evidence of the quality of his
moral nature, pass himself for a moment and refer to his "faithful dog." Has he
ever improved a dog, or attached a dog, since his nobility first ran wild in woods,
and was brought down (at a very long shot) by Pope ? Or does the animal that
is the friend of man, always degenerate in his low society ?

I'

^»

y

#<

•»

"^^

P

M^-^L

23O'

T/ic Noble Savage,

■j '

! .:!:

It is not the miserable nature of the noble savage that is the new thing ; it is the
whimpering over him with niaiullin admiration, and the aficcting to regret liini,
and the drawing of any comparison of advantage between the blemishes of
civilisation and tlie tenor of his swinish life. There may have been a change now
and then in those diseased absurdities, but there is none in him.

Think of the Uushmen. Think of the two men and the two women who have
been exhibited about England for some years. Arc the majority of persons — who
remember the horrid little leader of that party in his festering bundle of hides,
with his fdth and Jiis antipathy to water, and his straddled legs, and his odious
eyes shaded by his brutal hand, and his cry of " Qu-u-u-u-aaa ! " (Bosjesman for
something desperately insulting I have no doubt) — conscious of an aflectionate
yearning towards that noble savage, or is it idiosyncratic in me to abhor, detest,
abominate, and abjure him ? I have no reserve on tliis subject, and will frankly
slate that, setting aside that stage of the entertainment when he counterfeited the
death of some creature he had shot, by laying his head on his hand and shaking his
left leg— at which time I think it uould have been justifiaL... homicide to slay him
— I have never seen that group sleeping, smoking, and expectorating round their
brazier, but I have sincerely desired that something might happen to the charcoal
smouldering therein, which would cause the innnediate suffocation oi the whole of
the noble strangers.

There is at present a party of Zulu Kaffirs exhibiting at the St. George's Galleiy,
Hyde Park Corner, ^^ondon. These noble savages are represented in a most
agreeable manner ; mey are seen in an elegant theatre, fitted with appropriate
scenery of great beauty, and they are described in a very sensible and un-
pretending- lecture, delivered with a modesty which is quite a pattern to all similar
exponents. Though extremely ugly, they are much belter shaped than such of
their predecessors as I have referred to ; and they are rather picturesque to the
eye, though far from odoriferous to the nose. What a visitor left to his own
inlerpretings ana imaginings might suppose these noblemen to be about, when they
give vent to that pantomimic expression which is quite settled to be the natural
gift of the noble savage, I cannot possibly conceive ; for it is so much too
luminous for my personal civilisation that it conveys no idea to my mind beyond a

feneral stamping, ramping, and raving, remarkable (as everything in savage life is)
)v its dire uniformity. Uut let us — with the interpreter's assistance, of which I
for one stand so much in need — see what the noble savage does in Zulu Kaffirland.
The noble savage sets a kir.g to reign over him, to whom he submits his life and
limbs without a murmur or question, and whose whole life is passed chin deep in
a lake of blood; but who, after killing incessantly, is in his turn killed by his relations
and friends, the moment a gray hair appears on his head. All the noble savage's
wars with his fellow-savages (and he takes no pleasure in anything else) are wars of
extermination — which is the best thing I know of him, and the most comfortable to
my mind when I look at him. He has no moral feelings of any kind, sort,
or description ; and his "mission" may be summed up as simply diabolical.

The ceremonies with which he faintly diversifies his life are, of course, of a
kindred nature. If he wants a wife he appears before the kennel of the gentleman
whom he has selected for his father-in-law, attended by a party of male friends of
a very strong flavour, who screech and whistle and stamp an offer of so many cows
for the young lady's hand. The chosen father-in-law — also supported by a high-
flavoured party of male friends — screeches, whistles, and yells (being seated on the
ground, he can't stamp) that there never was such a daughter in the market as his
daughter, and that he must have six more cows. The son-in-law and his select
circle of backers, screech, whistle, stamp, and yell in reply, that they will give
three more cows. The father-in-law (an old deluder, overpaid at the beginning)

vr

Si

s •»

«^ > ^

^

The Genuine Umtar^artie.

231

thing ; it is the
\ to regret him,
c blemishes of
n a change now

omen who have
f persons— who
lundlc of hides,
and his odious
(Bosjesman for
an aflectionale
• abhor, detest,
md will frankly
aunterfeited the
and shaking his
;ide to slay him
ng round theii-
to the charcoal
)i the whole of

:orge's Galleiy,

ited in a most

ith appropriate

isible and un-

n to all similar

than such of

lU-esque to the

ft to his own

3ut, when they

the natural

so much too

nind beyond a

savage life is)

;e, of which I

lu Kaffirland.

ts his life and

chin deep in

yliis relations

loble savage's

z) are wars of

omfortable to

y kind, sort,

)olical.

course, of a
le gentleman
ale friends of
I many cows
i by a high-
:ated on the
arket as his
id his select
ey will give
; beginning)

)e

accepts four, and rises to bind the bargain. Th<i whole party, Ihe young lady
included, then falling into epileptic convulsions, and screeching, whi.-»tling,
stamping, and yelling together — and noborly taking any notice of ihe young uuly
(whose charms arc not to be thought of without a shudder) — the noble savage is
considered married, and his friends nuike demoniacal leaps at him by way of
congratulation.

When the noble savage finds himself a little unwell, and mentions tlie circum-
stance to his friends, it is immediately perceived that he is under the influence of
witchcraft. A learned jicrsonage, called an Imyanger or Witch Doctor, is innne-
diately sent for to Nooker the Umtargartie, or smell out the witch. The male
inhabitants of the kraal being seated on the ground, the learned doctor, got up
like a grizzly bear, appears, and administers a dance of a most terrific nature,
during the exhibition of which remedy he incessantly gnashes his teeth, and
howls: — "I am the original physician to Nooker the Umtargartie. Yow yovv
yow ! No connexion with any other establishment. Till till till ! All other
Umlargarties are feigned Umtargarties, Boroo Boroo ! but I perceive here a
genuine and real Umtargartie, lloosh Iloosh Iloosh! in whose blood I, the
original Imyanger and Nookerer, Blizzerum Boo ! will wash these bear's cl""s of
mine, O yow yow yow ! " All this time the learned physician is looking out
among the attentive faces lor some unfortunate man who owes him a cow, or who
has gi !\ him any small offence, or against whom, without offence, he has con-
ceived a spite. Him he never fails to Nooker as the Umtargartie, and he is
instantly killed. In the absence of such an individual, the usual practice is to
Nooker the quietest and most gentlemanly person in company. But the nookering
is invariably followed on the spot by the butchering.

Some of the noble savages in whom Mr. Catlin was so strongly interested, and
the diminution of whose numbers, by rum and small-pox, greatly affected him,
had a custom not unlike this, though much more appalling and disgusting in iis
odious details.

The -women being at work in the fields, hoeing the Indian corn, and the noble
savage being asleep in the shade, the chief has sometimes the condescension to
come forth, and lighten the labor by looking at it. On these occasions, he seats
himself in his own savage chair, and is attended by his shield-bearer : who holds
over his head a shield of cowhide — in shape like an immense mussel shell — fear-
fully and wonderfully, after the manner of a theatrical supernumerary. But lest
the great man sliould forget his greatness in the contemplation of the humble works
of agriculture, there suddenly iiishes in a poet, retained for the purpose, called a
Praiser. This literary gentleman wears a leopard's head over his own, and a
dress of tigers' tails ; he has the appearance of having come express on his hind
legs from the Zoological Gardens ; and he incontinently strikes up the chief's
praises, plunging and tearing all the while. There is a frantic wickedness in this
brute's manner of jvorrying the air, and gnashing out, " O what a delightful chief
he is ! O what a delicious quantity of blood he sheds ! O how majestically he
laps it up ! O how charmingly caiel he is ! O how he tears the flesh of his
enemies and crunches the bones ! O how like the tiger and the leopard and the
wolf and the bear he is ! O, row row row row, how fond I am of him ! " which
might tempt the Society of Friends to charge at a hand -gallop into the Swartz-Kop
location and exterminate the whole kraal.

When war is afoot among the noble savages — which is always — the chief holds
a council to ascertain whether it is the oj)inion of his brothers and friends in
general that the enemy shall be exterminated. On this occasion, after the per-
formance of an Umsebeuza, or war song, — which is exactly like all the other
songs, — the chief makes a speech to his brothers and friends, arranged in single

Sf., .

I

./

^.^

\ . '■

U^J

( '•

,1

J j !

'I '

fi, ;

S t

}' l-:'l:' '■

ii'

Wiliiiiiii^y,^:^ ^i

23a

T/ie Noble Savage.

file. No particular orrlor is observed durinr; the delivery of this address, but every
trntlcman v ho findj- himself excited by tlu subject, instead of crying "Hear,
hear ! " as is the custon with ms, darts froni the rank and tramples out the life, or
crushes the skull, or mashes the face, o» scoops out the eyes, or breaks the limbs,
or performs a whirlwind of atroc'tics on the I'ody, of an imaf;inary enemy.
Several (^cntleme;i bccijininf^ thus excited at once, and jioundinj; away without the
least regard to the orator, that illustrious person is rather in the position of an
orator in an Irish House o{ Commons. Hut, sc/cral of these scenes of bavaf^e life
bear a stronj; generic resemblance to an Irish election, and I think would be
extremely .veil received and understood at Cork.

In :J1 these ceremonies the noble savage holds forth to the utmost possible
extent about himself ; from wiiich (to tu'-n him to some civilised account) we may
learn, I tiJnk, thai as egotism is one of the most offensive and contemptible
littlenesses 'i civilised man can exhibit, so it is really incomnalible with the
interchange if" ideas ; inasmuch as if wc all talked about ourselves we ihould soon
have no listciiers, and must In- all yel'ing and screeching it once on our own
separate accounts : making society hideous. It is my opinion that if wc retained
iii us anything of the noble savage, we could not get riil of it too soon, But the
fact is clearly otherwise. Upon the wife and dowry qucrtion, substituting coin
'"or cows, wc have assuredly no'hing of the Zulu Kafu* left. The endurance of
despotism is one great distirguishing mark of a savage always. The impro'/ing
world has quite got the better of that too. In like manner, Paris is a civilisecl
cHy, and the Theatre Fran(;a's a highly ci^ ilised theatre ; and we shall i;ever hear,
and never have heard ia these later days (of course) of the Praiser there. No, no,
civilised poets have belter work to do. As to Nookering Umtargarties, there are
no pretented tJiatavgartics in K\;rope, and no luiropean powers to Nooker them ;
that would be mere spydom, suljornalion, small malice, superstition, and false

Eretencc. And as to ]M-ivate Umtargarties, are we not in the year eighteen
undred an<l fifty-ihree, with spirits rapping at our doors ?

To conclufle as I began. My posit" )n is, that if we have anything to learn from
the Noble Savage, il is what to avoid. His virtues are a fable ; his happiness is a
delusion ; his nobility, nonsense. Wc have no greater justification for being cruel
to the miserable ol)jjct, t^an foi being cruel to a William Shaksteare or an
Isaac Newton ; but he passes awiiy before an immeasurably better and higher
power than ever ran wild in any earthly woods, and the world will be all the
better when his place knows him no more.

Travelling Companions.

133

A FLIGHT.

When Don Diego dc— 1 forget his name— t)ic invcnlor* of tlic la'.t new Flying
Machines, price so many francs for ladies, so many nioic for gentlemen — when
Don Diego, by permission of Deputy ChaflT Wix and his noble band, shall have
taken out a Patent for the Queen's dominions, and shall have opened a commodious
Warehouse in an airy situation ; and when all persons of any gentility will keep
at least a pair of wings, and bo seen skimming about in every direction ; I shall
take a fliglit to Paris (as I soar round the world) in a cheaji and independent
manner. At present, my reliance is on the South Eastern Railway (.'ompany, in
whose Express Train here I sit, at eight of the clock on a very hot morning, under
the very hot roof of the Terminus at London IJridge, in danger of being " forced"
like a cucumber or a melon, or a pine-ai)plo — And talking of pine-apples, I
suppose there never were so many pine-apples in a Train as there appear to be in
this Train.

Whew ! The hot-house air is faint with ])inc-ai)ples. Every French citizen or
citizeness is carrying pine-apples home. The compact little lOnchantrcss in the
corner of my carriage (French actress, to whom I yielded up my heart under the
auspices of that brave child, "Meat-CHKLL," at the St. James's 'Hieatrc the
night before last) has a pine-apple in her lap. Compact iMichantress's friend,
confidante, miother, mystery. Heaven knows what, has two pine-apples in her lap,
and a bundle of them under the seat. Tobacco-smoky Frenchman in Algcrinc
wrapper, with peaked hood behind, who might be Abd-el-Kader dyed rifle-green,
and who seems to be dressed entirely in dirt and braid, carries pine-apples in a
covered basket. Tall, grave, melancholy Frenchman, with black Vandyke
beard, and hair close-cropped, with expansive chest to waistcoat, and compressive
waist to coat : saturnine as to his pantaloons, calm as to his feminine boots,
precious as to his jewellery, smooth and white as to his linen : dark-eyed, high-
foreheaded, hawk-nosed — got \ip, one thinks, like I^ucifer or Mephistophcles, or
Zamiel, transformed into a highly genteel Parisian — has the green end of a pine-
apple sticking out of his neat valise.

Whew ! If I were to be kept here long, under this forcing- frame, I wonder
what would become of me— whether I should be forced into a giant, or should
sprout Oi blow into some other phenomenon ! Compact Enchantress is not rufifled
by the heat — she is always composed, always compact. O look at her little
ribbons, frills, and edges, at her shawl, at her gloves, at her hair, at her bracelecs,
at her bonnet, at everything :,!30ut her ! Plow is it accomplished ! What d(^
she do to be so neat ? Plow is it that every trifle she wears belongs to her, and
cannot choose but be a part of her ? And even Mystery, look at her ! A model.
Mystery is not young, not pretty, though still of an average candle-light passability ;
but she does such miracles in her own behalf, that, one of these days, when she
dies, they'll be amazed to find an old woman in her bed, distantly like her. She
was an actress once, I shouldn't wcnder, and had a Mystery attendant on herself.
Perhaps, Compact Enchantress will live to be a Mystery, and to wait with a shawl
at the side-scenes, and to sit opposite to Mademoiselle in railway carriages, and
smile and talk subserviently, as Mystery does now. That's hard to believe !

Two Englishmen, and now our carriage is full. P'irst Englishman, in the
monied interest — flushed, highly respectable — Stock Exchange, perhaps — City,

^r

a.H

A F/ight

i. ri

certainly. Kacullics (jf second Kn(;lisliinan entirely absorbed in liurry. PlunKes
into the carria;;e, blii' I. Calls out of window concerning his lu^^a^f, deaf.
Suffocates himself under i)illo\vs of (:;rcat coals, for no reason, and in a denicnti'I
manner. Will receive no assurance from any porter whatsoever. Is stout and hoi,
and wipes his head, and makes liimself hotter by brealhiu}; so hard. Is totally
incre<!uK)us respectin^j assurance of Collected (iuard, that "there's no hurry.
No hurry! And a llij^ht to I'aris in eleven hours !

It is all one io me in this drowsy corner, luirry or no hurry. Until Don Dicj^'o
shall send home my wings, my flight is with the South liastern C!ompany. 1 ean
fly with the .South I'lastern, more lazily, at all evenis, than in the upper air. I havi.'
but to sit here tliinki.ig as idly as I please, and be whisked pway. I am nol
accountable to anybody for the idleness of my thoughts in such an idle summer
flight ; my flight is provided for by the South Mastern and is no business of mine.

'•'lie bell ! With all my heart. It does nol re(|uire nic to do so nmch as even
to flap my wings. Something snorts for me, something shrieks for mc, something
proclaims to everything else that it had better keep out of my way, and away I go.

Ah ! The fresh air is jileasanl after the forcing-frame, though it does blow over
these interminable streets, and scatter the smoke of this vast wilderness of chimneys.
Here we are— no, I mean there we were, for it has dartetl far into the rear — in
Bermondscy where the tanners live. Flash ! The distant shipping in the Thames
is gcjne. Whirr ! The little streets o'"new brick and red tile, with here and there
a flagstaff growing like a tall weed out of the scarlet beans, and, everywhere, plenty
of open sewer and ditch for the promotion of the public health, have been fired ofl
in a volley. Whizz ! Dust-heaps, market-gardens, and waste grounds. Kattle !
New Cross Station. Shock! There we were at Croydon. Bur-r-r-r ! The tunnel.

I wonder why it is that when I shut my eyes in a tunnel I begin to feel .is if I
wcro going .it an ICxprcss pace the other way. I am clearly going back to London
now. Compact ICnchautress must have forgotten somethnig, and reversed the
engine. No ! After long darkness, pale fitful streaks of light appear. I am still
flying on lor Folkestone. The streaks grow stronger — become continuous — bt come
the ghost of day — become the living day — became I mean — the tunnel is miles and
miles away, and here I fly through sunlight, all among the harvest and the Kentish
hops.

There is a dreamy ])leasure in this flying. I wonder where it was, and when it
was, that we exploded, blew into space somehow, a Parliamentary Train, with a
crowd of heads and faces looking at us out of cages, and some hats waving.
Monied Interest says it was at Keigatc Station. Expounds to Mystery how Reigatc
Station is so many mile.s from London, whicli Mystery again develops to Compact
Enchantic;^. There might be neither a Reigate nor a London for me, as I fly
away among the Kentish hops and harvest. What do /care?

Bang ! \\ e have let another Station off, and fly away regardless. Evei7lhing
is flying. The hop-gardens turn gracefully towards me, presenting regular avenues
of hops in rapid flight, then whirl away. So do the pools and rushes, haystacks,
sheep, clover in ftdl bloom delicious to the sight and smell, corn-sheaves, cherry-
orchards, apple-orcha(ds, reapers, gleaners, hedges, gates, fields that taper off into
little angular corners, cottages, gardens, now and then a church. Bang, bang ! A
double-barrelled Station ! Now a wood, now a bridge, now a landscape, now a

cutting, now a Bang ! a single-barrelled Station — there was a cricket-match

somewhere with two wdiite tents, and then four flying cows, then turnips — now the
wires of the electric telegraph are all alive, and spin, and blurr their edges, and go
up and down, and make the intervals between each other most irregular :
contracting and expanding in the strangest manner. Now we slacken. With a
screwing, and a grinding, and a smell of water thrown on ashes, now we stop !

I liiiiry. PIunKos
s hiK'k'nut', (loaf.
IKI ill :i demented
Is stout and hoi,
Imrd. Is lotallv
lerc's no liurry/'

Until Don Dic^'o
'ompniiy. I can
ppei- air. T l)ave
'way. I am not
an idle summer
business of mine,
■.o nmch as even
:)r mc, something
— and away I go.
t does blow over
II ess of chimneys,
nlo the rear— in
IK' in the Thames
:Ii here and there
erywhcre, plenty
ive been fired olK
•ounds. Rattle !
-r! The tunnel,
n to feel as if I
Iback to r.ondon
I reversed the
ar, I am still
inuous — be come
mcl is miles and
and the Kentish

s, and when it

Train, with a

hats waving.

y how Reigate

^s to Compact

n- me, as I fly

Everything
egular avenues
les, haystacks,
heaves, cherry-
l taper off into
ng, bang ! A
Iscape, now a

cricket-match
nips — now the
edges, and go
ost irregular :
Ken. With a

we stop !

No Hurry.

235

rate, and shall take wing

Demented Traveller, who has l)ecn for two or throe nunutcs wa^jhful, clutches
his great coats, |)lunges at tlie door, rattle.-, it, cries '• III !" eager to eml)ark 011
hoard ol impossible packets, f.ir inland, ("ollected Cliiard appears. "Arc you for
Tunbridge, sir ? " "'I'unbridge ? No. Paris." *' Tlenly of time, sir. No hurry.
Five minutes here, sir, for refreshment." I am so blest (anticipating Zumiel, by
half a second) as to procure a glass of water for Compact I''iichantress

Who would sujijiose we had been Hying at such a
again <lireclly? IvL-frcshineiUrooni full, platform full, porter with watering-jiol
deliberately cooling a hot wheel, an«)lher porter with C(|ual deliberation helping
the rest of the wheels bountifully to ice cream. Monied Interest and I re-entering
the carriage first, and being there alone, he intimates to me that the I'rench arc
"110 go" as a Nation. I ask why? lie says, that Reign of Terror of theirs was
(|uite enough. 1 ventured to in(|uire whether he remembers anything that preceded
said Reign c»f Terror ? lie says not particularly. " IJecause," 1 remark, "the
harvest that is reaped, has sometimes been sown." Monied Interest repeats, as
(luite enough for him, that the French arc revolutionary, — "and always at it."

Ik-ll. Compact I'Jichantress, helped in by Zamiel, (whom the stars confound !)
,'^ives us her charming little side-box look, and smiles me to the core. Mystery
eating sponge-cake. l*ine-ai)i)le atmosphere faintly tinged with suspicions of*
sherry. Demented Traveller liits past the carriage, looking for it. Is blind with
agitation, and can't see it. Seems singled out by Destiny to be the only unhappy
creature in the flight, who has any cause to hurry himself. Is nearly left behind.
Is seized by Collected Cuard after the Train is in motion, and bundled in. .Still,
has lingering suspicions that there must be a boat in the neighbourhood, and loill
look wildly out of window for it.

Flight resumed. Corn-she.ives, hoi)-garilens, reapers, gleaners, apple-orchards,
cherry-orchards. Stations single and double-barr;jlled, Ashford. Compact lui-
chantress (constantly talking to Mystery, in an exquisite manner) gives a little
scream ; a sound that seems to come from high up in her precious little he.ul; f'om
behind her bright little eyebroNvtj. " Great Heaven, my jiine-apple ! My /. .^-^el !
It is lost ! " Mystery is desolated. A scarcli made. It is not lost. Zamiel finds
it. I turse him (flying) in the Persian manner. May his lace be turned upside
down, and jackasses sit upon his uncle's grave !

Now fresher air, now glimpses of unenclosed Down-land with flapping crows
flying over it wliom we soon outfly, now the Sea, now I'\)lkestonc at a quarter
after ten. "Tickets ready, gentlemen ! " Demented dashes at the door. " I'or
Paris, sir ?" No hurry.

Not the least. We are dropped slowly down to the Port, and sidle to and fro
(the whole Train) betorc the insensible Royal George Hotel, for some ten minutes.
The Royal George takes no more heed of us than its namesake under water at
Spithead, or under earth at Windsor, does. The Royal George's dog lies winking
and blinking at us, without taking the trouble to sit up ; and the Royal George's
"wedding party" at the open window (who seem, I must say, rather tired of bliss)
don't bestow a solitary glance upon us, flying thus to Paris in eleven hours. The
first gentleman in F'olkestone is evidently used u]i, on this subject.

Meanwhile, Demented chafes. Conceives that every man's hand is against him,
and exerting itself to prevent his getting to Paris. Refuses consolation. Rattles
door. Sees smoke on the horizon, and "knows" it's the bo.at gone without him.
Monied Interest resentfully explains that he is going to Paris too. Demented
signifies that if Monied Interest chooses to be left behind, he don't.

" Refreshments in the Waiting- Room, ladies and gentlemen. No hurry, ladies
and gentlemen, for Paris. No hurry whatever ! "

Twenty minutes' pause, by Folkestone clock, for looking at Enchantress while

\

:\

Mik

'*^ijfe*„

'I I

' I-

1. 1

236

A Flight.

she cats a sandwich, and at Mystery while she eats of everything there that is
1 eatable, from pork-pie, sausage, jam, and gooseberries, to lumps of sugar. All
this time, there is a very waterfall of luggage, with a spray of dust, tumbling slant-
wise from tiie pier into the steamboat. All this time. Demented (who has no
business with it) watches it with starting eyes, fiercely requiring to be shown his
luggage. When it a 'ast concludes the cataract, he rushes hotly to refresh — is
shouted after, pursu • )stled, brought back, pitched into the departing steamer
upside down, and cauglit by mariners disgracefully.

A lovely harvest day, a cloudless sky, a tranquil sea. The piston-rods of the
engines so regularly coming up from below, to look (as well they may) at the bright
•weather, and so regularly almost knocking their iron heads against the cross beam
of the skyliglit, and never doing it ! Another Parisian actress is on board, attended
by another Mystery, Compact J^nchantress greets her sister artist — Oh, the
Compact One's pretty teeth!— ard Mystery greets Mystery. My Mystery soor.
ceases to be conversational — is taken poorly, in a word, having lunched too
miscellaneously — and goes below. The remaining Mystery then smiles upon tlic
sister artists (who, I am afraid, wouldn't greatly mind stabbing each other), and is
upon the whole ravished.

And now I find that all the I'renrh people on board begin to grow, and all the
English people to shrink. The Fr, .eh are nearing home, and shaking off a dis-
advantage, whereas we are shakinrr it on. Zainiel is the same man, and Abd-el-
Kader is the same man, but each seems to come into possession of an indescribable
confidence that departs from us — from Monicd interest, for instance, and from me.
Just what they gain, we lose. Certain British "Gents" about the steersman,
intellectually nurtured at home on parody of everything and Iruth of nothing,
become subdued, and in a manner forlorn ; and when the steersman tells them
(not exultingly) how he has "been upon this station now eight year, and never sec
the old town of Bullum yet," one of them, v/ith an imbecile reliance on a reed,
asks him what he considers to be the best hotel in Paris ?

Now, I tread upon PVench ground, and am greeted by the three charming
words. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, painted up (in letters a little too thin for
their height) on the Custom-house wall — also by the sight of large cocked hats,
without which demonstrative head -gear nothing of a public nature can be done
upon this soil. All the rabid Hotel population of Boulogne howl and shriek
outside a distant barrier, frantic to get at us. Demented, by some unlucky means
pecidiar to himself, is delivered over to their fury, and is presently seen struggling
in a whirlpool of Touters — is somehow understood to be going to Paris — is, with
infi^^ite noise, rescued by tvo cocked hats, and brought into Custom-house bondage
with the rest of us.

Here, I resign the active duties of life to an eager being, of prete-nitural sharp-
ness, with a shelving forehead and a shabby snuff-colored coat, who (from the
wharf) brought me down with his eye before the boat came into port. He darts
upon my luggage, on the floor where all the luggage is strewn like a wreck at the
bottom of the great deep ; gets it proclaimed and weighed as the property of
"Monsieur a traveller unknown;" pays certain francs for it, to a certain func-
tionary behind a Pigeon Hole, like a pay-box at a Theatre (the arrangements in
general are on a wholesale scale, half military and half theatrical) ; and I suppose
I shall find it when I come to Paris — he says I shall. I know nothing about it,
except that I pay him his small fee, and pocket the ticket he gives me, and sit
upon a counter, involved in the general distraction.

Railway station. "Lunch or dinner, ladies and gentlemen. Plenty of time
for Paris. Plenty of time ! " Large hall, long counter, long strips of dining-
table, bottles of wine,, plates of meat, roast chickens, little loaves of bread, basins

A Rapid Rer'iciv.

237

ling there that is
)s of sugar. All
t, tumbling slant-
ted (who has no
to be shown /i/s
•tly to refresh— is
leparting steamer

)iston-rods of the
lay) at the bright
St the cross beam
1 board, attended

artist— Oh, the
fy Mystery soor.
ing lunched too

smiles upon the
ch other), and is

row, and all the
[laking off a dis-
lan, and Abd-el-
an indescribable
;e, and from me.
: the steersman,
•uth of nothing,
sman tells them
ir, and never sec
ance on a reed,

hree charming
e too thin for

le cocked hats,
e can be done

Dwl and shriek
unlucky means
seen struggling
Paris — is, with

-house bondage

natural sharp-
who (from the
ort. He darts
1 wreck at the
le property of
1 certain func-
rangements in
md I suppose

ling about it,
s me, and sit

^lenty of time
ps of dining-
bread, basins

of soup, little caraffes of brandy, cakes, and fruit. Coniforlabl) restored from
these resources, I begin to fly again

I saw Zaniiel (before I took wing) presented to Compact Enchantress and
Sist'jr Artist, by an officer in uniform, with a waist like a wasp's, and pantaloons
like two balloons. They all got into the next carriage together, accompanied by
the two Mysteries, They laughed. I am alone in the carriage (for I don't
consider Demented anybody) and alone in the world.

Fields, windmills, low g»'ounds, pollard-trees, windmills, fields, fortifications,
Abbeville, soldiering and drumming. I wonder where England is, and when I
was there last — about two years ago, I should say. Flying in and out among these
trenches and batteries, skimming the clattering drawbridges, looking down into
the stagnant ditches, I become a prisoner of state, escaping. I am confined with
a comrade in a fortress. Our room is in an upper story. We have tried to get
up the chimney, Init there's an iron grating across it, imbedded in the masonry.
After months of labour, we have worked the grating loose with llie poker, and can
lift it up. We have also made a hook, and twisted our rugs and blankets into
ropes. Our plan is, to go up the chimney, hook our ropes to the top, descend
hana over hand upon the roof of the guard-house far below, shake the hook loose,
watch the opportunity of the sentinel's pacing away, hook again, drop into the
ditch, swim across it, creep into the shelter of the wood. The time is come — a
wild and stormy night. A^'e are up the chimney, we arc on the guard-house roof,
we are swimming in the murky ditch, when lo ! " Qui v'la?" a bugle, the alarm, a
crash ! What is it ? Death ? No, Amiens.

More fortifications, more soldiering and drumming, more basins of soup, more
little loaves of bread, more bottles of wine, more caraffes of biindy, more time for
refreshment. Everything good, and eveiything ready. Bnght, unsubstantial-
looking, scenic sort of station. People waiting. Houses, uniforms, beards, mous-
taches, some sabots, plenty of neat women, and a few old-visaged children.
Unless it be a delusion born of my giddy flight, the grown-up people and the
children seem to change places in France. In general, the boys and girls are
little old men and women, and the men and women lively boys and girls.

Bugle, shriek, flight resumed. Monied Interest has come into my carriage.
Says the manner of refreshing is "not bad," but considers it French. Admits
great dexterity and politeness in the^ttendants. Thinks a decimal currency may
have something to do with their despatch in settling accounts, and don't know but
vv'hat it's sensible and convenient. Adds, however, as a general protest, that
they're a revolutionary people — and always at it.

Ramparts, canals, cathedral, river, soldiering and drumming, open country,
river, earthenware manufactures, Creil. Again ten minutes. Not even Demented
in a hurry. Station, a drawing-room with a verandah : like a planter's house.
Monied Interest considers it a band-box, and not made to last. Little round
tables in it, at one of which the Sister Artists and attendant Mysteries are es-
tablished with Wasp and Zamiel, as it they were going to stay a week.

Anon, with no more trouble than Ijefore, I am flying again, and lazily wondering
as I fly. What has the South Eastern done with all the horrible little villages we
used to pass through, in the Diligoicc ? ^Vhat have they done with all the
summer dust, with all the winter mud, with all the dreary avenues of little trees,
with all the ramshackle postyards, with all the beggars (\vho used to turn out at
night with bits of lighted candle, to look in at the coach windows), with all the
long-tailed horses who were always biting one another, with all the big postilions
in jack-boots — with all the mouldy cafes that we used to stop at, where a long
mildewed tablecloth, set forth with jovial bottles of vinegar and oil, and with a
Siamese arrangement of pepper and salt, was never wanting ? Where arc the

Hi

mmm

^^ik^ii

238

A Flight.

.ir,!

i."

:;; lii'

I '

'' ■ 1

grass-grown little towns, the wonderful little market-places all unconscious of
markets, the shops that nobody kept, the sireets that nobody trod, the churches
that nobody went to, the bells that nobody rang, the tumble-down old buildings
plastered Avith many-colored bills that nobody read ? Where are the two-and-
twenty weary hours of long long day and night journey, sure to be cither insupport-
ably hot or insupportably cold ? Where are the pains in my bones, where are the
fidgets in my legs, where is the Frenchman with the nightcap who rover ttmild
have the little coupe-window down, and who always lell upon me when ne went to
sleep, and always slept all night snoring onions ?

A voice breaks in with " I'aris ! Here we arc ! "

I have overflown myself, perhaps, but I can't believe it. I feel as if I were
enchanted or bewitched. It is barely eight o'clock yet — it is nothing like half-past
— when I have had my luggage examined at that briskest of Custom-houses
attached to the station, and am rattling over the pavement in a hackney-
cabriolet.

Surely, not the pavement of Paris ? Yes, I think it is, too. I don't know any
other place where there are all these high houses, all these haggard-looking wine
shops, all these billiard tables, all these stocking-makers with flat red or yellow legs
of wood for signboard, all these fuel shops with stacks of billets painted outside,
and real billets sawing in the gutter, all these dirty corners of streets, all these
cabinet picti'.res over dark doorwaj's representing discreet matrons nursing babies.
And yet this morning — I'll think of it in a warm-bath.

Very like a small room that I remember in the Chinese baths upon the Boule-
vard, certamly ; and, though I see it through the steam, I think that I might
swear to that peculiar hot-linen basket, like a large wicker hour-glass. When can
it have been that I left home? When was it that I paid " through to Paris" at
London Bridge, and discharged myself of all responsibility, except the preservation
of a voucher niled into three divisions, of which the first was snipped off at
P'olkestone, the second aboard the boat, and the third taken at my journey's end ?
It seems to have been ages ago. Calculation is useless. I will go out for a walk.

The crowds in the streets, the lights in the shops and balconies, the elegance,
variety, and beauty of their decorations, the number of the theatres, the brilliant
cafes with their windows thrown up high and their vivacious groups at Httle tables
on the pavement, the light and glitter of the houses turned as it were inside out,
soon convince me that it is no dream ; that I am in Paris, howsoever I got here.
I st?oll down to the sparkling Palais Royal, up the Rue de Rivoli, to the Place
Verdome. As I glance into a print-shop window, Monied Interest, my late
tra' elling companion, comes upon me, laughing Avith the highest relish of disdain.
*' Here's a people ! " he says, pointing to Napoleon in the window and Napoleon
on the column. '* Only one idea all over Paris ! A monomania ! " Humph ! I
THINK I have se^n Napoleon's match ? There WAS a statue, when I came away,
at Hyde Park Corner, and another in the City, and a print or two in the shops.

I walk up to the Barriere de TEtoile, sufficiently dazed by my flight to have a
pleasant doubt of the reality of everything about me ; of the lively crowd, the over-
hanging trees, the performing dogs, the hobby-horses, the beautiful perspectives of
shining lamps : the hundred and one enclosures, where the singing is, in gleaming
orchestras of azure and gold, and where a star-eyed Houri comes round with a box
for voluntary offerings. So, I pass to my hotel, enchanted ; sup, enchanted ; go
to bed, enchanted ; pushing bac'K this morning (if it really were this morning) into
the remoteness of time, blessing the South Eastern Company for realising the
Arabian Nights in these prose days, murmuring, as I wing my idle flight into the
land of dreams, "No hurry, ladies and gentlemen, going to Paris in eleven hours.
It is so well done, that there really is no liuny ! " •, -•

I unconscious of
rod, the churches
wn old buildings
ire the two-and-
cither insupport-
es, where are the
vlio r<>ver xtmild
when lie M'ent to

"eel as if I were

_ng like half-past

Custom-houses

in a hackney-

don't know any
ird-Iooking wine
k1 or yellow legs
painted outside,
treets, all these

nursing babies.

pcin the Boule-
ik that I might
ss. When can
gh to Paris " at
he preservation
snipped off at
journey's end?
out for a walk.

the elegance,

:, the brilliant

at Mttle tables

ere inside out,

er I got here.

, to the Place

rest, my late

sh of disdain.

md Napoleon

Humph ! I
r came away, j
the shops. !

ht to have a
'wd, the over- ,
•erspectives of i
, in gleaming j
id with a box
ichanted ; go
■Homing) into
realising the
ight into the
eleven hours.

Little Party in Wellington Street.

239

THE DETECTIVE POLICE.

We are not by any means devout believers in the old Eow Street Police. To
say the truth, we think there was a vast amount of humbug about those worthies.
Apart from many of them being men of very indifferent character, and far too
much in the habit of consorting with thieves and the like, they never lost a public
occasion of jobbing and trading in mystery and making the most of themselves.
Continually puffed besides by incompetent magistrates anxious to conceal their own
deficiencies, and hand-in-glove with the penny-a-liners of that time, they became a
sort of superstition. Although as a Preventive Police they were utterly ineffective^
r.nd as a IDetective Police were very loose and uncertain in their operations, they
remain with some neople a superstition to the present day.

On the other hand, the Detective Force organised since the establishment of the
existing Police, is so well chosen and trained, proceeds so systematically and
quietly, does its business in such a workmanlike manner, and is always so calmly
and steadily engaged in the service of the public, that the public really do not know
enough of it, to know a tithe of its usefulness. Impressed with this conviction, and
interested in th,; men themselves, we represented to the authorities at Scotland
Yard, that we should be glad, if there were no official objection, to have some talk
with the Detectives. A most obliging and ready permission being given, a certain
evening was appointed with a certain Inspector for a social conference between
ourselves and the Detectives, at The Household Words Office in Wellington
Street, Strand, London. In consequence of which appointment the party '* came
off," which we are about to describe. And we h^g to repeat that, avoiding such
topics as it might for obvious reos ns be injurious to the public, or disagreeable to
respectable individuals, to touch upon in print, our description is as exact as we
can make it.

The reader will have the goodness to imagine the Sanctum Sanctorum of House-
hold Words. Anything that best suits the reader's fancy, will best represent that
magnificent chamber. We merely stipulate for a round table in the middle, with
some glasses and cigars arranged upon it ; and the editorial sofa elegantly hemmed
in between that stately piece of furniture and the wall.

It is a suUry evening at dusk. The stones of Wellington Street are hot and
gritty, and the watermen and hackney-coachmen at the Theatre opposite, are
much flushed and aggravated. Carriages are constantly setting down the people
who have come to Fairy-Land ; and there is a mighty shouting and licllowing every
now and then, deafening us for the moment, through the open windows.

Just at dusk, Inspectors Wield and Stalker are announced ; but we do not
undertake to warrant the ortliography of any of the names here mentioned.
Inspector Wield presents Inspector Stalker. Inspector Wield is a micldlc-agcd
man of a portly presence, with a large, moist, knowing eye, a husky voice, and a
habit of emphasising his conversation by the aid of a corpulent fore-finger, which
is constantly in juxta-position with his eyes or nose. Inspector Stalker is a shrewd,
hard-headed Scotchman — in appearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-
trained schoolmaster, from the Normal Establishment at Glasgow. Inspector
Wield one might have known, pciliaps, for what he is — Inspector Stalker, never.

i4

3

'' -la I ■fill. I rfir ■?

^. Him

^ I ! '

V

240

T/ie Ddcctive J'olicc.

'i'lic ceremonies of reception over, Inspectors Wield and Stalker observe ti)at
they have hrouf^ht some sergeants with them. The sergeants are presented — five in
numl)er, Sergeant Dornton, Sergeant Witclicni, Sergeant Mill), Sergeant Fendall,
and Sergeant Straw. We have the wliole Detective I'orcc from Scotland Yard,
witli one exception. They sit down in a semi-circle (the two Inspectors at the two
ends) at a little distance from the round table, facing the editorial sofa. lOvery
man of them, in a glance, immediately lakes an inventory of the furniture and an
accurate sketch of the editorial presence. The lulitor feels that any gentleman
in comjiany could take him up, if need should be, without the smallest hesitation,
twenty years hence.

The whole jiarty are in plain clothes. Sergeant Dornton about fifty years of age,
with a rufldy face and a high sunburnt forehead, has the air of one who has been
a Sergeant in the army — he might have sat to Wilkiefor the Soldier in the Keadin}^
of the Will. He i^ famous for steadily pursuing the inductive process, and, from
small beginnings, working on from clue to clue until he bags his man. Sergeant
Wilchem, shorter and thicker-set, and marked with the small-pox, has something
of a reserved and thoughtful air, as if he were engaged in deep arithmetical calcula-
tions. He is renowned for his acquaintance with the swell mob. Sergeant Mitli,
a smooth-faced man with a fresh bright complexion, and a strange air of simplicity,
is a dab at housebreakers. Sergeant Fentlall, a light-haired, well-spoken, polite
person, is a prodigious hand at pursuing private in(iuiries of a delicate nature.
Straw, a little wiry Sergeant of meek demeanour and strong sense, would knock at
a door and ask a series of questions in any mild character you choose to prescribe
to him, from a charity-boy upwards, and seem as imiocent as an infont. They are,
one and all, respectal)le-looking men ; of perfectly good deportment and unusual
intelligence ; with nothing lounging or slinking in their manners ; with an air ol
keen observation and quick perception when addressed ; and generally presenting
in their faces, iraces more or less marked of habitually leading lives of strong
mental excitement. They have all good eyes ; and they all can, and they all do,
look full at whomsoever they speak to.

We light the cigars, and hand round the glasses (which are very temperately
used indeed), and the conversation begins by a modest amateur reference on the
Editorial part to the swell mob. Inspector Wield immediately removes his cigar
from his lips, waves his right hand, and says, " Kegarding the swell mob, sir, I
can't do better than call upon Sergeant Witchem. ]3ccause the reason why ? I'll
tell you. Sergeant Wilchem is belter ac(j[uainted with the swell mob than any
officer in London."

Our heart lea]->ing up when we beheld this rainbow in the sky, we turn to
Sergeant Witchem, who very concisely, and in well-chosen language, goes into the
subject forthwith. Meantime, the whole of his brother officc-s are closely interested
in attending to what he says, and observing its effect. Piesently they begin to
strike in, one or two together, when an opportunity offers, and the conversation
becomes general. But these brother officers only come in to the assistance of each
other — not to the contradiction— and a more amicable brotherhood there could not
be. From the swell mob, we diverge to the kindred topics of cracksmen, fences,
public-house dancers, area-sneaks, designing young people who go out "gonoph-
ing," and other "schools." It is observable throughi:)ut these revelations, that
Inspector Stalker, the Scotchman, is always exact and statistical, and that when any
question of figures arises, everybody as by one consent pauses, and looks to him.

When we have exhausted the various schools of Art — during which discussion
the whole body have remained profoundly attentive, except when some unusual
noise at the Theatre over the way has induced some gentleiuan to glance inquir-
ingly towards the window in that direction, behind his next ncij;'hbour's back — we

r

Sergeant Witche?n mid Tally-ho Thompson,

241

lalkcr observe tliaf
: prescntcd—nvc i„
'Sergeant Feiulall
)ni Scotland Yard'
spcctors at tlie two
orial sofa. J-lvcry
' furniture and an
lat any gentleman
niallest liesitation,

t fifty years of ag,.
one who lias heci'i
licr in the Keadinrr
process, and, from
s man. Sergeant
)x, has somcthin"
ithmetical calcula'^

Sergeant Miih, j
? air of simplicity,
•ell-spoken, polite I
delicate nature. '
■, would knock at
oosc to i^rescribc
ifmt. They are,
lent and unusual
5 ; with an air o(
lerally presenting
\ lives of strong
and they all do,

very temperately
reference on the
:moves his cigar
well mob, sir, I
asonwhy? J'H
1 mob than any

ky, we turn to
[e, goes into the
losely interested
y they begin to
ic conversation
iistance of each
there could not
:ksmen, fences, 1
out "gonoph-
ivelations, that
I that when any
ooks to him.
lich discussion
some unusual |
glance inquir-
er's back— we

burrow for information on such points as the following. Whetlicr there really are
any highway robberies in London, or whether some circumstances not convenient
to l)e mentioned by the aggrieved party, usually i)recede the robl)cries complained
(if, under that head, which (luite change their character? Certainly the latter,
almost always. Whether in the case of robljcries in houses, where servants arc
necessarily exposed to doubt, innocence under suspicion ever becomes so like guilt
in appearance, that a good officer need be cautious iiow he judges it ? Undoubtedly.
Nothing is so common or deceptive as such aj)pearances at fust. Whether in a
))lace of public amusement, a thief knows an ofiicer, and an officer knows a thief —
supposing them, beforehand, 'Strangers to each other — because each recognises in
the other, under all disguise, an inattention to what is going on, and a purpose that
is not the purpose of being entertained ? 'N'es. That's the way exactly. Whether
it is reasonable or ridiculous to trust to the alleged experiences of thieves as narrated
by themselves, in prisons, or penitentiaries, or anywhere ? In general, nothing
more absurd. Lying is their habit and their trade ; and they would rather lie —
even if they hadn t an interest in it, and didn't want to make themselves agreeable
—than tell the truth.

From these topics, we glide into a •'■•view of the most celebrated and horrible of
the great crimes that have been committed within the last fifteen or twenty years.
The men engaged in the discovery of almost all of them, and in the pursuit or
apprehension of the murderers, are here, down to the very last instance. One of
our guests gave chase to and boarded the emigrant ship, in whic'.' the murderess
last hanged in London was suj^posed to have embarked. We learn from him that
his errand was not announced to the passengers, who may have no idea of it to this
hour. That he went below, with the captain, lamp in hand — it being dark, and
the whole steerage abed and sea-sick — and engaged the Mrs. Manning who was on
board, in a conversation about her luggage, until she was, with no small pains,
induced to raise her head, and turn her fiice towards the light. Satisfied that she
was not the object of his search, he quietly re-embarked in the Government steamer
alongside, and steamed home again with the intelligence.

When we have exhausted these subjects, too, which occupy a considerable time
in the discussion, two or three leave their chairs, whisper Sergeant Witchcm, and
resume their seats. Sergeant Witchem leaning forward a little, and placing a hand
on each of his legs, then modestly speaks as follows :

" My brother-officers wish me to relate a little account of my taking Tally-ho
Thompson. A man oughtn't to tell what he has done himself ; but still, as nobody
was with me, and, consetiuently, as nobody but myself can tell it, I'll do it in the
best way I can, if it should meet your approval."

We assure Sergeant Witchem that he will oblige us very much, and we all com-
pose ourselves to listen with great interest and attention.

"Tally-ho Thompson," says Sergeant Witchem, after merely wetting his lips
with his brandy-and-water, "Tally-ho Thomjison was a famous horse-stealer,
couper, and magsman. Thompson, in conjunction with a pal Uiat occasionally
worked with him, gammoned a countryman out of a good round sum of money,
under pretence of getting him a situation — the regular old dodge — and was after-
wards in the * Hue and Cry' for a horse — a horse that he stole, down in Ilertfoud-
shire. I had to look after Thompson, and 1 apj^lied myself, of course, in the first
instance, to discovering where he was. Now, Thompson's wife lived, along with
a little daughter, at Chelsea. Knowing that Thompson was somewhere in the
country, I watched the house — especially at post-time in the morning— thinking
Thompson was pretty likely to write to her. Sure enough, one morning the post-
man comes up, and delivers a letter at Mrs. Tlxjmpson's door. Little girl o|:)ens
the door, and takes it in. We're not always sure of postmen, though the people

!•;

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at the post-offices are always very obliging. A postman may help us, or he may
not, — just as it happens. However, I go across the road, and I say to the post-
man, after he has let the letter, 'Good morning! how are you?' 'How are
youV says he. 'You've just delivered a letter for Mrs. Thompson.' 'Yes, I
have.' ' You didn't happen to remark what the post -mark was, perhaps ?' ' No,'
says he, * I did'nt.' ' Come,' says I, ' I'll be plain with you. I m in a small way
of business, and I have given Thompson credit, and I can't afford to lose what he
o'.ves me. I know he's got money, and I know he's in the country, and if you
could tell me what the post-mark w^-s, I should be very much obliged to you, and
you'd do a service to a tradesman in a small way of business that can't afford a
loss.' ' Well,' he said, 'I do assure you that I did not observe what the post-mark
was ; all I know is, that there was money in the letter — I should say a sovereign.'
This was enough for me, because of course I knew that Thompson having sent his
wife money, it was probable she'd write to Thompson, by return of post, to
acknowledge the receipt. So I said, * Thankee' to the postman, and I kept on the
watch. In the afternoon I saw the little girl come out. Of course I followed her.
She went into a stationer's shop, and I needn't say to you that I looked in at the
window. She bought some writing-paper and envelopes, and a pen. I think to
myself, ' That'll do ! ' — watch her home again — and don't go away, you may be
sure, knowing that Mrs. Thompson was writing her letter to Tally-ho, and that the
letter would be posted presently. In about an hour oi so, out came the little girl
again, with the letter in her hand. I went up, and said something tc the child,
whatever it might have been ; but I couldn't see the direction of the letter, because
she held it with the seal upwards. However, I observed that on the back of the
letter there was wliat we call a kiss — a drop of wax by the side of the seal — and
again, you understand, that was enough for me. I saw her post the letter, v^aited
till she was gone, then went into the shop, and asked to see the Master. When
he came out, I told him, ' Now, I'm an Officer in the Detective Force ; there's a
letter with a kiss been posted here just now, for a man that I'm in search of ; and
what I have to ask of you, is, that you will let me look at the direction of that
letter.' He was very civil — took a lot of letters from the box in the window —
shook 'em out on the counter with the faces downwards — and there among 'm was
the identical letter with the kiss. It was directed, Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post

Office, B , to be left 'till called for. Down I went to B (a hvmdred and

twenty miles or so) that night. Early next morning I went to the Post Office ;
saw the gentleman in charge of that department ; told him who I was ; and that
my object was to see, and track, the party that should come for the letter for Mr.
Thomas Pigeon. He was very polite, and said, ' You shall have every assistance
we can give you ; you can wait mside the office ; and we'll take care to let you
know when anybody comes for the letter.' Well, I waited there three days, and
began to think that nobody ever loould covao.. At last the clerk ..uispered to me,
' Here ! Detective ! Somebody's cofne for the letter I ' ' Keep him a minute,'
said I, and I ran round to the outside of the office. There I saw a young chap
with the appearance of an Ostler, holding a horse by the bridle — stretching the
bridle across the pavement, while he waited at the Post Office Window for the
letter. I began to pat the horse, ana that ; and I said to the boy, ' Why, this is
Mr. Jones's Mare!' 'No. It an't.' 'No?' said I. 'She's very like Mr.
Jones's Mare !' ' She an't Mr. Jones's Marc, anyhow,' says he. ' It's Mr. So and
So's, of the Warwick Arms.' And up he jumped, and off he went — letter and all.
I got a cab, followed on the box, and was so quick after him that I came into the
stable-yard of the Warwick Arms, by one gate, just as he came in by another. I
went into the bar, where there was a young woman serving, and called for a glass
of brandy -and-water. He came in dn-ectly, and handed her the letter. She

Sticking to the Letter.

243

Ip us, or he may
say to the post-

)U

9'

How are
ipson.' 'Yes, I
srhaps?' 'No,'
1 in a small way
to lose what he
intry, and if you
iged to you, and
at can't aflbrd a
It the post-mark
say a sovereign. '
I having sent his
:um of post, to
nd I kept on the
; I followed her.
looked in at the
>en. I think to
ly, you may ho
ho, and that the
ne the little girl
ng tc the child,
e letter, because
the back of the
f the seal— and
le letter, v^'Tited
blaster. When
arce ; there's a
search of ; and
rection of that
the window —
among 'm was
Pigeon, Post
hundred and
Post Office ;
hvas ; and that
letter for Mr.
^ery assistance
:are to let you
iree days, and
spered to me,
m a minute,' !
a young chap
stretching the
ndow for the
Why, this is
ery like Mr.
Mr. So and
etter and all,
ame into the
another. I
sd for a glass
letter. She

casually looked at it, without saying anything, and stuck it up behind the glass over
the ch'mney-piece. What was to be done next ?

•* i turned it over in my mind while I drank my brandy-and-water (looking
pretty sharp at the letter the while) but I couldn't see my way out of it at all. I
tried to get lodgings in the house, but there liud been a horse-fair, or something of
that sort, and it was full. I was obliged to put up somewhere else, but I came
backwards and forwards to the bar for a couple of days, and liiere was the letter
always behind the glass. At last I thought Fd write a letter to Mr. Pigeon myself,
and see what that would do. So I^ wrote one, and posted it, but I purposely
addressed it, Mr. John Pigeon, instead of Mr. Th(3mas Pigeon, to see what t/uxt
would do. In he r.iorning (a very wet morning if was) I watched the postman
down the street, and cut into the bar, just bef(jre he reached the Warwick Arms.
In he came presently with my letter.' . ' Is there a Mr, John Pigeon staying here?'
' No !— stop a bit though,' says the barmaid ; and she took down the letter behind
the glass. *No,' says she, ' it's Thomas, and //<.' is not staying here. Would you
do me a favor, and post this for me, as it is so wet?' The postman said Yes ; she
folded it in another envelope, directed it, and gave it him. lie put it in his Iwt,
and away he went.

" I had no diiTiculty in finding out the direction of that letter. Tt was addressed

Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post Office, R , Northamptonshire, to be left till called

for. Off I started directly for R ; I said the same at the Post Oflice there, as

I had said at B ; and again I waited three days bcHjre anybody came. At last

another chap on horselxick came. 'Any letters for Mr. Thomas Ilgeon?'

'Where do you come from ?' * New Inn, near R ,' lie got the letter, and

away he went at a canter.

"I made my inquiries about the New Inn, near R , and hearing it was a

solitary sort of house, a little in the horse line, about a couple of miles from the
station, I thought I'd go and have a look at it, I found it what it had been de-
scribed, and sauntered in, to look about me. The landlady was in the bar, and I
was trying to get into conversation with her asked her how business was, and spoke
about the wet weather, and so on ; when I saw, through an open door, three men
sijting by the fire in a sort of parlor, or kitchen ; and one of those men, according
to the description I had of hmi, was Tally-ho Thompson !

" I went and sat down among 'em, and tried to make things agreeal/ic ; but they
were very shy — wouldn't talk at all — looked at me, and at one another, in a way
quite the reverse of sociable. I reckoned 'em up, and finding that they were all
three bigger men than me, and considering that their looks wore ugly — that it was
a lonely place— railroad station two miles off— and night coming on — thought I
couldn t do better than have a drop of brandy-and-water to keep my courage up.
So I called for my brandy-and-water ; and as I was sitting drinking it by the fire,
Thompson got up and went out.

"Now the difficiiity of it was, that I wasn't sure it 7i<as Thompson, because I
had never set eyes on him before ; and what I had wanted was to be quite certain
of him. However, there was nothing for it now, but to follow, and put a bold face
upon it, I found him talking, outside in the ^ ard, with the landlady. It turned
out afterwards that he was wauled by ?. NoYthampton officer for something else,
and that, knowing that officer to be pock-mtirked (as I am myself), he mistook me
for him. As I have -observed, I found him talking to the landlady, outside, I put
my hand vipon his shoulder— this way — and said, ' Tally-ho Thompson, it's no use.
I know you, I'm an officer from London, and I take you into custody for felony !'
'That be d — d !' says Tally-ho Thompson.

*' We went back into the house, and the two friends liegan to cut up rough, and
their looks didn't please me at all, I assure you. ' Let tlie man go. What are

4i3:iC**aiUi'.*c'::- ■"STfrt, - 1.

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244

The Detective Police.

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you going to do with him?' * I'll tell you what I'm going to do with him. I'm
going to take him to London to-night, as sure as I'm alive. I'm not alone here,
whatever you may think. You mind your own business, and keep yourselves to
yourselves. It'll be better for you, for I know you both very well.' /'d never seen
or heard of 'em in all my life, but my bouncing cowed 'em a bit, and they kept ofT,
while Thompson was making ready to go. I thought to myself, however, that
they might be coming after me on the dark road, to rescue Thom])son ; so I said
to the landlady, * What men have you got in the house, Missis ?' ' We haven't got
no men here,' she says, sulkily. 'You have got an ostler, I suppose ? ' 'Yes,
we've got an ostler.' 'Let me see him.' Presently he came, and a shaggy-headed
young fellow he was. ' Now attend to me, young man,' says I ; * I'm a Detective
Officer from London. This man's name is Thompson. I have taken him into
custody for felony. I ?m goin .• to take him to the railroad station. I call upon
you in the Queen's nai *o r ~ .,{; m( ; and mind yoi* my friend, you'll get yourself
into more trouble than ori lj,o </ of, if you don't ! ' /ou never saw a person open
his eyes so wide. 'Nov,. '; h ;'.';.r.on, come along ! ...ys I. But when I took out
the handcuffs, Thompson , .-s, ' ^^ > ! None of th'tt ! I won't stand them! I'll
go along with you quiet, but I won\ t^ar none of Uiat !' ' Tally-ho Thompson,'
I said, ' I'm willing to behave as a man to you, if you are willing to behave as a
man to me. Give me your word that you'll come peaceably along, and I don't
want to handcuff you.' * I will,' says Thompson, * but I'll have a glass of brandy
first.' ' I don't care if I've another,' said I. ' We'll have two more, Missis,' said
the friends, * and con-found you. Constable, you'll give your man a drop, won't
you?' I was agreeable to that, so we had it all round, and then my man and I
took Tally-ho Thompson safe to the railroad, and I carried him to London that
night. He was afterwards acquitted, on account 0/ a defect in the evidence ; and
I understand he always praises me up to the skies, and says I'm one of the best
of men."

This story coming to a termination amidst general applause, Inspector Wield,
after a little grave smoking, fixes his eye on his host, and thus delivers himself:

" It wasn't a bad plant that of mine, on Fikey, the man accused of forging the
Sou' Western Railway debentures — it was only t'other day — because the reason
why ? I'll tell you.

" I had information that Fikey and his brother kept a factory over yonder
there," — indicating any region on the Surrey side of the river — "where he loought
second-hand carriages ; so after I'd tried in vain to get hold of him by other
means, I wrote him a letter in an assumed name, saying that I'd got a horse and
shay to dispose of, and would drive down next day that he might view the lot, and
make an offer — very reasonable it was, I said — a reg'lar bargain. Straw and me
then went off to a friend of mine that's in the livery and job business, and hired a
turn-out for the day, a precious smart turn-out it was — quite a slap-up thing !
Down we drove, accordingly, with a friend (who's not in the Force himself) ; and
leaving my friend in the shay near a public-house, to take care of the horse, we
went to the factory, which was some little way off. In the factory, there was
a number of strong fellows at work, and after reckoning 'em up, it was clear to me
that it wouldn't do to tiy it on there. They were too many for us. We must get
our man out of doors. ' Mr. Fikey at home ?' * No, he ain't.' ' Expected home
soon?' ' Why, no, not soon.' 'Ah! Is his brother here?' *7'm his brother."
* Oh ! well, this is an ill-conwenience, this is. I wrote him a letter yesterday,
saying I'd got a little turn-out to dispose of, and I've took the trouble to bring the
turn-out down a' purpose, and now he ain't in the way.' ' No, he ain't in the way.
You couldn't make it convenient to call again, could you ?' ' Why, no, I couldn't.
I want to sell ; that's the fact ; and I can't put it off. Could you find him any-

3 with liim. I'm
m not alone liere
eep yourselves to
• /'d never seen
md they kept off,
elf, however, that
mpson ; so I said

' We haven't got
ippose ? ' « Yes,

a shaggy-headed
' I'm a Detective

taken him into
)n. I call upon
'ou'll get yourself
Lw a person open
when I took out
itand them ! V\\
r-ho Thompson,'
I to behave as a
ong, and I don't
glass of brandy
)re, Missis,' said
1 a drop, won't
my man and I j
to London that
J evidence j and
one of the best

Mr. Fikey disconcerted.

245

ispector Wield,
rs himself:
I of forging the
use the reason

. over yonder
here he bouglit

him by other
ot a horse and
:w the lot, and
Straw and me
ss, and hired a
;lap-up thing!
himself) ; and
the horse, we
My, there was
'as clear to me

We must get
'xpected home
I his brother.''
ter yesterday,
e to bring the
't in the way.
o, I couldn't,
^nd him any-

wheres V At first he said No, lie couldn't, and then he wasn't sure about it, and
then he'd go and try. So at last lie went upstairs, where there was a sort of lofl,
and presently down comes my man himself in his shirt-sleeves.

" * Well,' he says, * this seems to be rayther a pressing matter of yours.' * Yes,'
I says, *it /> rayther a pressing matter, and you II find it a bargain — dirt cheap.'
*I ain't in partickler want of a bargain just now,' he says, 'but where is it?'
' Why,' I says, * the turn-out's just outside. Come and look at it.' He hasn't a v
suspicions, and away we go. And the first thing that happens is, that the hor..
runs away with my friend (who knows no more of driving than a child) when he
takes a little trot along the road to show his paces. You never saw such a game
in your life !

" When the bolt is over, and the turn-out has come to a stand -still again, Fikey
walks round and round it as grave as a judge — me too. ' There, sir! ' I says.
' There's a neat thing I ' 'It ain't a bad style of thing,' he says. ' I believe you,'
says I. * And there's a horse ! ' — for I saw him looking at it. * Rising eight ! ' I
says, nibbing his fore-legs. (Bless you, there ain't a man in the world knows less
of horses than I do, but I'd heard my friend at the L'- M-y S»ables say he was
eight year old, so I says, as knowing as possible * Risi. r ht.') Rising eight,
is he ? ' says he. 'Rising eight,' says I. 'Well,' hr suy<- • what do you want
for it?' ' Why, the first and last figure for the whole ;. v\te ■< is five-and-twenty
pound ! ' ' That's very cheap ! ' he says, looking at r> ' \in't it ? ' I says. ' I
told you it was a bargain ! Now, without any higgling a • naggling about it, what
I want is to sell, and that's my price. Further, I'll make it easy to you, and take
half the money down, and you can do a bit of stifi* • !' e balance.' ' Well,' he
saysag"-.., * that's very cheap.' ' I believe you,' say., 1 ; 'get in and try it, and
you'll buy it. Come ! take a trial ! '

" Ecod, he gets in, and we get in, and we drive along the road, to show him to
one of the railway clerks that was hid in the public-house window to identify him.
But the clerk was bothered, and didn't know whether it was him, or wasn't —
because the reason why ? I'll tell you, — on account of his having shaved his
whiskers. ' It's a clever little horse,' he says, ' and trots well ; and the shay runs
light.' ' Not a doubt about it,' I says. ' And now, Mr. Fikey, I may as well
make it all right, without wasting any more of your time. The fact is, I'm
Inspector Wield, and you're my prisoner.' ' You don't mean that ?' he says. ' I
do, indeed.' ' Then burn my body, 'says Fikey, * if this ain't too bad ! '

" Perhaps you never saw a man so knocked over with surprise. ' I hope you'll
let me have my coat ? ' he says. * By all means.' ' Well, then, let's drive to the
factory.' ' Why, not exactly that, I think,' said I ; ' I've been there, once
before, to day. Suppose we send for it.' He saw it was no ;o, so he sent for it,
and put it on, and we drove him up to London, comfortable."

This reminiscence is in the height of its success, when a general proposal is
made to the fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air of
simplicity, to tell the " Butcher's Story."

The fresh complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air of simplicity,
began with a rustic smile, and in a soft, wheedling tone of voice, to relate the
Butcher's Story, tliUs :

"It's just about six years ago, now, since informatioi was given at Scotland
Yard of there being extensive robberies of lawns and silks going on, at some
wholesale houses in the City. Directions were given for the business being looked
into ; and Straw, and Fendall, and me, we were all in it."

" "When you received your instructions," said we, " you went away, and held a
sort of Cabinet Council together ! "
^- .: • ■: ; * Give a bill.

:t'.

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TJic Detrctivc Police.

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t

Tlu! KJnoolli-fiucd offucr nmxiii^jly replied, " Vocs. Ju»t ho. Wt? Iiirnnl it over
nnion^ Diirsrlvt-s n (miixI dral. It nppfaicil, wliuii wo wcnl into it, thai llic f;<>«i(l ,
wcic sfilil liy tlic n ccivrr". cxIraoKliiiaiily ( licap iiiiK li < lu-aprr tliaii lliry coiiM
liavr liccii il llicyliad hcMi lioiicslly t (Hiic by. The reccivei i were in tlur trade,
ami lu'jil capital shops - cstaldisliiiieiils ol the liisl rc.pci tahilily unc nf 'em at tin
We:, I raid, (jiic down in Wtslniiiistei. After a lot of watching and inf|iiiry, and
llii'^ and that amnii|f oni'. elves, we loiuid that the joli was inana|;ed, and the |)iir
cha'.es of liie i.lnlt II j^dod , made, at a little piil»ii( -lioiise iieai .Siiiilliheld, down l»y
Saint Mailholomew's ; where the W.iiehouse Porters, who were the tliij'vcs, fo()l<
'I'ln for that pin pu.e, don't yotisee? and made appoinlineiil, to nice! the peojde
that went lalweeii themselves and the reicivei.. This piililic house was piin(ip;dly
nse<| by joinneyiiieii bntrheis from thecoimtry, out of place, and in want of situa-
tions ; so, what did we do, but - ha, ha, ha! we a|;recd that I should be dressed
\\\t like a but< her inysc If, and \ni and live there ! "

Never, surely, was a faddty ol observation better broiif^hl to bear U|>oii a pur-
pose, than that whiih picketl out this ofTicer for the pail. Nothing,' in all ereatioii
could have suited him belter. I''v(;n while he spoke, he became .1 jjreasy, sleepy,
shy, jMiod natured, chuckle ln'aded, unsuspicious, and ((tiihdinj; yoimj^; bulchei.
Mis very hair seemed to have suet in it, as he madir il smooth upon his liead^ anil
liis fresh complc\ion to be lubricated by Iai|;e (|uaiitities of animal food.

- "So I- ha, ha, ha!" (always with the conlidiiif; sni|^f^er of the foolisli

younj^ biilchci) "so I dressed myself in the rejnilar way, made ii|) ;i lillli- bundle
of clothes, and went to the publicdiousc, and asked il I could have a lodjji'ij^
there? They says, 'yes, you (an have :i lod^ini^ here,' ami I \\yA a bed room,
and settled myself down in the lap. There was a miiiibe* of peo|)le about the
place, and eomiii}^ backwards and forwards to the house ; and Inst one says, ami
then .'mother says, 'Are you from the country, youn|.; man?' ' Ves,' 1 says, 'I
am. I'm come out of Northamplonshire, and I'm (iiiite lonely here, for I don't
know London al all, and it's sm h a mifdily bif; town. ' It is a bi}^' town,' they
says, 'Oh, it's a very V\\\ town !' I s.iys. ' Really and truly I never was in such
ft town. It <|uilc! confuses of me !' and all that, you know.

" When some of the Journeymen r»ulchers that used the house, 'i(n\\M\ that I
wanted a i>la(e, they says, 'Oh, we'll fjet you a place ! ' And they actually look
me to a si}4lit of jilaces, in New^,^ate Market, Newport Market, Clare, Carnaby —
1 don't know where all. Hut the waj^'cs was— ha, ha, ha ! was not sufficient, and
I iK.'ver could suit myself, don't you see? .Some of the (|iieer fretpienters of the
house, were a lillle suspicious of me at ilrst, and I was oblij^ed to be very cautious
indeed, how I commnnicaled with .Straw or J'^endall. .Sometimes, when I went
out, prelciidiii}; to sloi) ami look into the shop windows, and just castinj; my eye
round, I w^k:k\ lo see some of 'em followiiif^ me ; but, beinj^ j)erha])s better accus-
tonud than they ihouj^ht for, to that sort of Ihiiif,', I used It) lead 'em on as far as
1 tliouj^ht necessary or convenient— sometimes a long way— and then turn sharj)
round, and meet 'em, and say, ' ( )h, dear, how glad I am loconu; ujion you so
foiiunate! This l.oiulon's such a ))lace, I'm blowcd if I an't lost again ! ' And
llien we'd go back all together, to the publicdiousc, and — ha, ha, ha! and smoke
our l)ilies, don't you see?

"They were very attentive to me, T am sure. Tt was a common thing, while
T was living there, for some of 'em to take mc out, and show me London. They
showed me llie I'iisi)ns — sliowed mc Newgate- and when they showed mc New-
gale, I slops al the jdace where the Porters pilch their loads, and says, 'Oh dear,
is Ihis where Ihey hanp the men ? Oh Lor ! ' That ! ' they says, 'what a simph-
cove he is ! Thai ain't it ! ' And then, they ])oinlcd out which was it, .ind I say
' Jjor ! ' and they says, 'Now you'll know il agen, won't you?' And I said 1

(■r

J". We liiriirtl it ov
jiiilo it, ijiat ihc ffiMid ,
l^'Iicr than tlicy could
1 1 . were in the liiidr,
|iiy one f.f 'cm ;il tli<
iinfj and in(|iiiry, and
aii,ij;cd, and the pur

SniitI

Micid, down It

I

\rn' the tliicvcs, look
|l • lo nice! the |i('o|)|c

linii .(■ was piinc i|ially

and in want of siliia-

I should Im! dressed

f lo l)cai" Jipon rv pur-

"lliini; in ail iication

1 :une a ^'reasy, sicrpy,

din);; younjj !»nlclici.

Ii upon his hcad^ and

nnial ((uid.

nif;jjcr of flic foolisli

adc up a lilll(! I)undl(-

could have a Io(lj;i'ij^

III I f;ol a bed room,

' of people about tlif

111(1 Inst on(; says, and

■ ' Vcs.' I says, •!

lonely here, for I don't

I /> a l)i|; town,' they

iy I never was in sucn

e house, found that T
nd they actually took
I<el, Clare, Carnahy —
was not sufficient, and
leer fre(|uenters of tin-
ned to he very cautious
nelimes, when 1 went
d just casting my eye
perhaps better accus-
) lead 'em on as far as
- and then turn sharj)
to conu! U]ion you so
I't JosI nf;ain ! ' And
\, ha, ha ! and smoke

conmon thing, while
*v me London, They
hey showed mc New-
and says, * Oh dear,
'says, *what a simple
lich 7fw.r it, and I say
^ou?' And I said i

T/jc founv; Mnn from the C.ounir).

m

ilioujdit I should if 1 tried hard — and I nssurr yoii I kept fi sharp look out for
the (ily police when we were out in this way, for if any of 'cm ha<l hf.ppetied to
I, now me, snul lia«l spoke lo mc, it would have been all ti; . i a nnniile. However,
by ;;oi)d lu( k MM h a tiling; ne\cr happened, and all went on (pnet : thoui^h the
<lif(i( ullies I ha<l in coninniniiatin); wilh my brother ollii crs were rpiite extra-
ordinary.

"The stolen |;of»ds that were broU(;lil to the publichou-.e by the Warrhouse
I'orler., were always di.pri'-ed o( m ;i back pailor. I'or ;•. loin; time, I never could
;;et into this parlor, or see what was done there, A-. I ,at .mokuij,' my pipe, lik«-
.111 innofiiit yoiinj; ( hail, by the lap r«)om hre, I'd hear '.ome of the parties lo the
lobbery, as they lame m and out, say softly to the landloid, ' Who's thai ? What
does he do here ?' * Hless your soul,' say. the landloid, he's only a'— ha, ha, ha !
— • he's only a (jreen youii); fellow from the eounlry, an i> lookiii|j for a butcher's
•iliwalion. I )oirt iiiiiid /////// ' So, in course of lime, they were so convinced of
my beiii^,' j^icen, and j;<»l to be so afcustomed to me, lli:it I was as fiee of the
)arIor as any of 'eiii, and I have s(!en as much an Seventy J'ounds worth of fine
awn sold there, in one nijdil, that was stolen from a warehouse in l''iiday .Street.
Alter IIk; sale the biiyeis always .stood tre.it- hot supp<M, or dinner, or what not -
and they'd say on those occasions, ' ('(nne on, jlutcher ! I'ut your best le^ fore-
most, y(»un|,' 'un, and walk into ii I ' W'liiih I used to do— and hear, at table, all
manner of particular', flint it was very important for us l>clectives lo know.

"This went on for ten weeks. I livcl in the piibli>;di<juse all the time, and
never w.is out of the iluUher's dress— <'xcept in bed. At last, when I had followed
seven of the Ihieves, and set 'em to rijdils that's an expression (»f ours, don't you
f.ee, by which I mean to say that [ traced 'em, nnri found out where Ihc rc^bberies
were done, iuid all about 'em---Slraw, and J'endall, and I, j;.'ive one another the
'ifhce, and at a lime af^Mcecl upon, a (le;,cent was made upon liie public-house, and
I he; .'i))preliensions eflec led. ( )ii(; f)f the first thiiif^s the cfficers did, #wns lo collar
me— for the- parlies lo the ro])briy weren't to suppose yet, that I was anything but
,1 Ihilcher -on which the landl'-rd cries out, ' \)u\\\ l.ike ////;/,' he says, 'whatever
you.cio ! lie's only a [loor yc'iiiif^ chap from the (oimlry, find butler wouldn't
melt in his mouth !' However, they — ha, ha, h;i !— they took me, and prc;tended
tc) scare h my bedroom, where nolhiiif^' was found but a'l old hddle l)eloiij{in(( to the
landlord, that had |^^)l there .someliow or another. I'.iit, it entirely chi.iijjcd the
landlord's opinion, for when it was )(rodu(ed, lie says, 'My fiddle ! The Ihitchcr's
a i)ur-loiiier ! I ^ive him into < iistody for iIm; robbery of .'i mu.ical instrument ! *

" 'I'he man that h.ul stolen llief'oods in I'riday .Street was ncH taken yet. He
had told me, in confidence, that he lind liis suspicions there was scjmethiiiLj wronj;
((jn account of the ( ity i'olice having; c.iptured one of the ]jarty), and that he wa.s
j^oitig to make himself scarce. J asked him, " Where (h> /ou mean to {.;o, Mr. .Siiep- '
herdson?' ' Why, l»i',tcher,' says he, ' the Settiii); Moon, in the f 'ommercial Koad,
is a snu|^ houscr, and I shall hang out there for a lime. I shall call rnyself .Simpson,
which appears to me to be a modest sort of a name. I'erhaps you'll give us a look
in, l'.utcher?' 'Well,' ays I, 'I think I -oull give you a c;air— which I fully
intended, don't yc>u see, because, of course-, he: was to b(; l.-iken ! I went e^ver lothc
Setting Mexjii next day, wilh a brother e>fficer, and asked al the bar for .Simpson.
They ])oinfed e)ut his room, upsl.iirs. As we were going tip, he h>oks down over
the banisters, and calls out, 'Halloa, Ihilcher ! i-. llial you?' * Yes, it's mc.
How do find yourself?' ' I'cjbbish,' he; says; 'but who's thai with you ? ' * It's
only a young man, llial's a friend of mine,' 1 s.ays. ' (Je^me along, then,' says he ;
any friend ctf the butcher's is as welcome as the Hutthcr ! ' So, I made my friend
acepiainted with liim, and we loe>k him iiilo custody,

" You have no idea, sir, whut a sii^lit il was, in Court, when they first knew that

.'^

"#1,

\. I

:rlf.

linl.'/

1

f! !

, , -'^•unvc j'tiiice.

'»■•■>»" 1 a ii„,ch<;r, nftcr^rnf — : —

w:.nl p„|i,,e. \\C'l„„ 7 ,' "''"-"fficor V \V ,„ , ""^':-'"' "lean .wr „,'"!"

'he Ii"lcl,er,s„W "*; '" "'f I";'"l in ),i,, ,mrra,'i'? ."''""■ '"'" ''"'"I"", that hi
T. •;:■ ' ^""''' -ys „^> "?(v ,'->".. • is 'i.a."; hJr.? i e«l';' >• :TI-'h,« t; ^

of ;;/'!t - ' '- "^ '"siT;^^^^ «vi.i;a"::ntT«""' ^"™'™. ''c soSS;:

of the Aclventiiros nfo r ' Il^'^'^-^I's you inirrl.t u^,,^ ^

. ,\Ve >velc„, ', : , ;'^2.4"P« 'i-^g. They a,f verj^hon"'' "r";™"" "> heari,,.
false liutclior al tlie Sen a, ■*»• "^ cordially a, M, 2/ ' ?'"'• ' 'hink, curious"?

from yo„„" /e tf""n T"^ '"^•'"'ilj'. i'> t e iT''''^'''''^ ^'^'^I'^ck, a r«. rt

-■^^S BKP?'^ - -i 41! Ji-"'^ -•• ^-. hiZ

porters Jeff t^ i • P» '^ oeine tho I^c^ «. • ^ i""»t.3

Jhieh w:f ihe^;1'i,|,';t;] /o^" ''•' " '^- « Vor.hrS °"^ - -^ .hree
after a needle in a hayrick li,/-. F'^''" "i'ilary Ijf nflt ,v, ^'^'^'""H RaiUvay
ftr a cert.,i„ j^ a^ certai,/ , ','■ ''fPPened thai one' of 'the ' '""'■'" "'='" '"oS

'here, and' ."fh ' foS" /Tth '" "l ^^^- -' ' tn^l^awa" "^ ' '^^age there for a

;'-'?/^j^'^kha,,hich;:, ^"' '''"^"'■^"-^^^^^^^^

i!!^!!:::::- -f^£; a~~--. .. a .a. i, Li:

Dund

ey, who

^examination, when
'"' clone, actually [

I'lc JJiiicher. II.
/•."•/'•<-• Prosecuti,';

o-oO,cer.s vS S

'^^"- I want the

''".^^'••' '^oth in one

^;,""y. and .ome of

"^' ^'ot a term 0/

' ''.''"self into the
''';''••• 'i'-^v/nf. take,
/^ondon. that he
y ••epcatin^, with
*"i;lhemen? o|,

'^ein^j^ too difTuse
""' t'le soJdierJy:

'omcnt in hcarin;.

thinlv, curious '^

n weJcomed the

;^^I^'-t Je;v. He
'"'f.' acceptances
'^^'^^ of discount,

about him was,
"lade inquiries

'y two or three
^^all Railway,
t lan lookin^T
■s iiad carried;

ge there for a
»ch questions
Ption of-the

S^-een pa,Tot
Identify that

-Jieltenham,
tie was too
thoughts of

■ in Ireland
mdey, who

escaped to America ; from which country some of the stolen notes canie home.
Me was supposed to have l)ouj;lit a farm in New Jersey. Under proper manage-
ment, that estate could he seized and sold, for the benefit of the parlies he had
defrauded. I was sent off lo America for this purpose.

*' I landed at Ik)ston, I went on to New York. I found ihat he had lately
changed New York paper-money for New Jersey paper-money, and had bankeil
cash in New IJrunswick. To lake this Doctor Dundey, it was necessary to entrap
him into the Slate of New York, which rcijuiied a deal of artifice aiul trouble. At
one time, he couldn't lie drawn into an appf)humenl. At another Ume, he
appointed to come to meet me, and a New \'ork olficer, on a pretext I made ; and
then his children had the measles. At last he came, per steam-boat, and 1 took
him, and lodged him in a New York prison called the Tombs ; which I dare say
you know, sir V "

Editorial acknowledgement to that effect.

" I went lo Oij Toml)s, on the nmniing after his capture, to attend the cxamin?i-
tion before the m.igislrate. I was passing through the magistrate's private n)om,
when, happening to look round me to take notice of the place, as we generally
have a habit of doing, I clapjicd my eyes, in one corner, on a — Carpet IJag.

"What did I see upon that Carpet l>ag, if you'll believe me, but a green parrot
on a stand, as large as life.

*' 'That Carpet IJag, with the representation of a green parrot on a stand,' said
I, ' belongs to an English Jew, named Aaron Mesheck, and to no other man, alive
or dead ! '

" I give you my word the New York Police Officers were doubled up witli
surprise.

" • How did you ever come to know that ?' said they.

** * I think I ouglit lo know that green parrot I y this time,' said I; ' for I have
had as pretty a dance after that bird, at home, as ever I had, in all my life ! ' "

*' And was it Mesheck's ?" we submissively inquired.

"Was it, sir? Of course it was! He was in custody for another offence, in
that very identical Tombs, at that very identical time. And, more than that !
Some memoranda, relating to the fraud for which I had vainly endeavoured to take
him, were found to be, at that mcmeiit, lying in that very same individual —
Carpet Bag!"

Such are the curious coincidences and such is the peculiar ability, always
sharpening and being improved by practice, and always adapting itself to every
variety of circumstances, and opposing itself to every new device that perverted
ingenuity car invent, for which this important social branch of the public service is
remarkable ! For ever on the watch, with their wits stretched to the utmost, these
officers have, fiom day to day and year to year, to set themselves against every
novelty of trickery and dexterity that the combined imaginations of all the lawless
rascals in England can devise, and to keep pace with every such invention that
comes out. In the Courts of Justice, the materials of thousands of such stories as
we have narrated — often elevated into the marvellous and roir, antic, !)y the cir-
cumstances of the case — are dryly compressed into the sot phrase, "in -.onse-
quence of information I received, I did so and so." Suspicion was to be directed,
by careful inference and deduction, upon the right person ; thf right person \ is to
be taken, wherever he had gone, or whatever he was doing io avoid dctecUo"! : he
is taken ; there he is at the bar ; that is enough. From informatior. I, tjie officer,
received, I did it ; and, according to the custom in these cases, I say no more.

These games of chess, played with live pieces, are played before small audiences,

'I

'!\

I)

l'\

r'i

II:!:fLl^^^^

'le had discovered tnp^'"'"'"^ ^^^ V^'hlFc timu -o ' tf^' ^'^^ '^k suppose
^J^^t from informattrhrJ^^T^ ' "'■ ^'"L^'Mn?4 Xrm™^^^
^^etectives inform iTh.tthr '^^'^r' ^^^ had discovtS / ' P"^^'"' "^ ^^' ^'v
^^l^P-cess is unknown^ '"^ ^^"'^ '^'--vered a new ?;rucror":rold'r^i ^° ^^-
Thus, at midnight, dosed f],n , ,- offender, and

^'\'^/x/■.r^rv^-^^.^

THREE -DETECTIVE" ANECDOTES.

I.

-THE FAIR OF GLOVES.

on.r h^md^o;;;; ':^^^ , ^^^ was 5>m-on5 X ^^^'^ -"- yea.
saw the poor Coun eS Jn' d '' ''T''^ ''^y ^^ carry „/of T^'^'^' ''^^^"^^e
■ i-oat cut, on the W V ^ '"''''■" ^e^- well to ^Zli f ? ?'^'^^^^ ' and when I

"That's neither ere m r ^l/''^'^^^" ^ '" ^^'^ ^^dts Cme h^' ''"?^ "^ ^■^^^'-
'""rder, and examined tj/e I. n'"' ,^ '^'^"^ ^^ the house fhl"'^-^^'^^^-

you have got ,o do WeW^ 't'""^' '° ^«™-Sg very 1 'j ''f ^f^^' ''''^'-^^

- » 7o;/s ;!s,r '^ ''"'™ o/ci^t::; ;,7c;;t V'-^^^ ^^ ^ """ '^""

There ^Ta s.^5 '^f'S'l'X''' '''!"' " ™^' 4 op on' f, "rfi^'-'y- I looked

"f^Jly have, mori or "s "'•?"" T'" •■"^°"' <-■'". y™ W t^l 'T' 'j^''^" '^''=^»«l
who waj i„ ij,^, ii„ °' f f ; ' '.°<''< '='» over to a fri™ V '"•'' '='«='"«I Ulovos
Sieves been clea "J'?' tL"" ",'" '>""• ' What ZttT"' =" Kenni.tjtot
?»}' idea u!,o clean" 1 them • ' ^^V'" ''"' '«<■» clea,K° N^ "7 ' "•■'^' 'l>esc
*a v,;ho ,/,;/„v clean '' T,- /.Tl ; ' Not at all, ' S^tt %^- ' "-e yot,

Tts the player. Its
■yth smal], suppose
t>on he had received
''^ PubJic of his day
^v continent ; so tJie
m old offender, and

-interesting: party,
ifter our Detective
cer best acquainted

77pe Glove-cleaners,

251

TES.

tive Police, who,
rt'i^'ght visit, one

'ood, some years
oiintess, because
£" ; and when I
tJead, with her
'ai-iety of reHcc-
«y head.
Tning after the
[ the bed-room
^ found, under-
cry dirty; and

a^jistrate, over

'^^y^, 'there's

;nt ; and what

ly- I looked
Jt-'en cleaned,
leaned gloves

Kennington,
Have tiiese
'Have you

very distinct
^Vield, there
- "ot, at tJjat
Jay find out,
ections, and
^f'tJ "P that
o'lldn't find
ics.

*' What with this person not being at liomc, and that person being e.MK'cted home
\\\ the afternoon, and so forth, the inquiry took me three days. On the evening oi
llie third day, coming over Waterloo Bridge from the Surrey side of tlic river, quite
l)eat, and very much vexed and disappointed, I thought I'd have a shilling's worth
of entertainment at the Lyceum Theatre to freshen myself up. So I went into the
I'it, at half-price, and I sat myself down next to a very cpiiet, modest sort of young
man. Seeing I was a stranger (which I tliought it just as well to appear to be) he
told me the names of the actors on the stage, and we got into conversation. When
the play was over, wo. came out together, and I said, ' We've been very companion-
able and agreeable, and perhaps you wouldn't object to a drain?' ' Well, you're
very good,' says he ; ' I j/zw/A///'/' object to a drain,' Accordingly, we went to a
public-house, near the Theatre, sat ourselves down in a quiet room upstairs on the
first floor, and called for a pint of half-and-half, a-piece, and a pipe.

" Well, sir, we put our pipes aboard, and we drank our half-and-half, and sat a
talking, very sociably, when the young man says, ' Vou must excuse me stopping
very long,' he sayr, ' because I'm forced to go home in good time. I must be at
work all night.' 'AtAvork all night?' says I. ' You ain't a baker ?' 'No,' he
says, laughing, ' I ain't a baker.' ' I thought not,' says I, ' you haven't the looks
of a baker.' ' No,' says he, ' I'm a glove-cleaner.'

"I never was more astonished in my life, than when I heard them words come
out of his lips. 'You're a glove-cleaner, are you?' says I. 'Yes,' he says, ' I
am.' 'Then, perhaps,' says I, taking the gloves out of my pocket, 'you can tell
me who cleaned this pair of gloves ? It's a rum stor)',' I says. ' I was dining over
at Lambeth, the other day, a*' a free-and-easy — quite promiscuous — with a public
company — when some gentleman, he left these gloves behind him ! Another gen-
tleman and me, you see, we laid a wager of a sovereign, that I wouldn't find out
who they belonged to. I've spent as much as seven'shillings already, in trj'ing to
discover ; but, if you could help me, I'd stand another seven and welcome. You
see there's Tr and a cross, inside. * / see,' he says. * Bless you, / know these
gloves very well ! I've seen dozens of pairs belonging to the same party.' ' No ? '
says I, ' Yes,' says he. * Then you know who cleaned 'em ? ' says I, * Rather
so,' says he. * My father cleaned 'em.'

" 'Where does your father live?' says T. 'Just round the corner,' says the
young man, * near Exeter Street, here. He'll tell you who ihey belong to, directly.'
' Would you come round Avith me now ? ' says I. * Certainly,' says he, ' but you
needn't tell my father that you found me at the play, you know, because lie
mightn't lik'^ it.' ' All right ! ' We went round to the place, and there we found
an old man in a Avhite apron, with two or three daughters, all rub])ing and cleaning
away at lots of gloves, in a front parlor. ' Oh, Father ! ' says the young man,
' here's a person been and made a bet about the ownership of a p-iir of gloves, and
I've told him you can settle it.' ' Good evening, sir,' says I to the old gentleman.
' Here's the gloves your son speaks of. Letters Tr, you sec, and a cross.' ' Oh
yes,' he says, ' I know these gloves very Avell ; I've cleaned dozens of jxairs of 'em.
They belong to Mr. Trinkle, the great upholsterer in Cheapsidc' * Did you get
'em from Mr. Trinkle, direct,' says I, 'if you'll excuse my asking the question?
' No,' says he ; * Mr. Trinkle always sends 'em to Mr. Phil)l)s's, the haberdasher's,
opposite his shop, and the haberdasher sends 'cm to me.' ' T'erhapsv^'// Avouldn't
object to a drain?' says I. 'Not in the least!' says he. So I took the old
gentleman out, and had a little more talk with him and his son, over a glass, and
we parted cx-cellent friends.

"This was late on a Saturday night. First thing on the Monday morning, I wnit
to the haberdasher's shop, opposite Mr. Tiinkle's, the great upholsterer's in ("iieap-
side. * i>Ir. Phibbs in the way ? ' ' My name is I'hibbs.' 'Oli! I l)elieve you

r^^-'VJ

>'

1 :

'i!

IP

i

252

T/iree ^Detective" Anecdotes.

sent this pair of gloves to be cleaned?' * Yes, I did, for young Mr. Trinkle over
the way. There lie is in the -iliop ! ' * Oil ! that's him in the shop, is it ? Ilim
in the green coat?' 'The same individual.' 'Well, Mr. I'hibbs, this is an
unpleasant affair ; but the fact .s, I am Inspector Wield of the Detective Police,
ant found these gloves undci the pillow of the young woman that was murdered
the oi cr day, over in the Waterloo Road ? ' ' Good Heaven ! ' says he. ' lie's
a most respectable young man, and if his father was to hear of it, it would be the
ruin of hiin ! ' ' I'm very sorry for it,' says I, ' but I must take him into custody.'

* Good Heaven ! ' says Mr. Phibbs, again ; ' can nothing be done !' ' Nothing,'
says I. ' Will you allow me to call him over here,' says he, * that his father may
not see it done ? ' '1 don't OMCct to that,' says I ; ' but unfortunately, Mr. Phibbs,
I can't allow of any communicanon between you. If any was attempted, I should
have to interfere directly. Perhaps you'll beckon him over here ? ' Mr. Phibbs went
to the door and beckoned, and the young fellow came across the street directly ; a
smart, brisk young fellow.

" 'Good morning, si'-,' says I. * Good morning, sir,' says he. ' Would you
allow me to inquire, sir,' says I, ' if you ever had any acquaintance with a party of
the name of Grimwood ? ' ' Grimwood ! Grimwood ! ' says he, * No ! ' ' You
know the Waterloo Road ? ' ' Oh ! of course 1 know the Waterloo Road ! '
' Happen to have heard of a young woman being murdered there ? ' * Yes, I read
it in the paper, and very sorry I was to read it.' ' Here's a pair of gloves belonging
to you, that I found under lier pillow the morning afterwards ! '

"He was in a dreadful state, sir; a dreadful state! ' Mr. W^ield,' he says,

* upon my solemn oath I never was there. I never so much as saw her, to my
knowledge, in my life ! ' * I am very sorry,' says I. To tell you the truth ; I
don't think you are the murderer, but I must take you to Union Hall in a cab.
However, I think it's a case of that sort, that, at present, at all events, the magis-
trate will hear it in private. '

" A private examination took place, and then it came out that this young man
was acquainted with a cousin of the unfortunate Eliza Grimwood, and that, calling
to see this cousin a day or two before the murder, he left these gloves upon the
table. Who should come in, shortly afterwards, but Eliza Grimwood ! ' Whose
gloves are these ? ' she says, taking 'em up. ' Those are Mr. Trinklc's gloves,'
says her cousin. * Oh ! ' sa):-> she, ' they are very dirty, and of no use to him, I
am sure. I shall take 'em away for my girl to clean the stoves with.' And she
put 'em in her pocket. The girl had used 'em to clean the stoves, and, I have no
doubt, had left 'em lying on the bed-room mantelpiece, or on the drawers, or
somewhere ; and her mistress, looking round to see that the room was tfdy, had
caught 'em up and put 'em under the milovv where I found 'em.

"That's the story, sir."

II.— THE ARTFUL TOUCH.

" One of the most hcatdiful \\\\x\<^ that ever was done, perhaps," said Inspector
Wield, emphasising the adjective, as preparing us to expect dexterity or inge-
nuity ratlier than strong interest, " was a move of Sergeant Witchem's. It was a
lovely idea !

" Witchem and mc were down at Epsom one Derby Day, waiting at the station
for the Swell Mob. As I menlioneu, when we were talking about these things
before, we are ready at the station when there's races, or an Agricultural Show, or
n Chancellor sworn in for an university, or Jenny land, or any thing of that sort ;
"and as the Swell Mob come down, we send 'em back again by the next train. But

;.v

Tlie Artful Touch.

253

Mr. Trinkle over
s>op, isit? Iii,n
h'bbs, this is an
^efcctive Police,
liat was murdered

says Jie. ' He's
^ it would be the
Jm into custody '
e-'' 'Nothing/
at his father may
tely, Mr. Phibbs,
-'"ipted, I should

Mr. Phibbs went i
treet directly ; a !

' Would you
^vith a party of i

iterloo Road ! '

* Ves, I read ,
loves belonging !

^ield,' lie says, i
'i\v her, to my I
II the truth ; I
■^all in a cab. 1
Its, the magis-

lis young man
d that, calling
)ves upon the
'fl •' ' Whose
iklc's gloves,'
use to him, I
!i- ' And she
f'j I have no

drawers, or

aS tPdy, had

icl Inspector
ity or inge-
• It was a

the station

lese things

1 Show, or

that sort ;

rain. But

some of the Swell Mob, on the occasion of this Derby that I refer to, so far kidded
us as to hire a horse and shay; start away from London by Whitechapel, and miles
round ; come into Epsom from the opposite direction ; and go to work, right and
left, on the course, while we were waiting for 'em at the Rail. That, hov/ever,
ain't the point of what I'm going to tell you.

*' While Witchem and me were waiting at the station, there comes up one Mr.
Tatt ; a gentleman forn.crly in the public line, quite an amateur Detective in his
way, and very much respected. ' Halloa, Charley Wield,' he says. ' What are
you doing here ? On the look out for some of your old friends ? ' * Ves, the old
move, Mr, Tatt.' ' Come along,' he says, * you and Witchem, and have a glass of
sherry.' ' We can't siir from the place,' says I, * till the next train comes in ; but
after that, we will with pleasure.' Mr. Tatt waits, and the train comes in, and
then Witchem and me go off with him to the Hotel. Mr. Tatt he's got up quite
regardless of expense, for the occasion ; and in his shirt-front there's a beautiful
diamond prop, cost him fifteen or twenty pound — a very handsome pin indeed.
We drink our sherry at the bar, and have had our three or four glasses, when
Witchem cries suddenly, ' Look out, Mr. Wield ! stand fast ! ' and a dash is made
into the place by the Swell Mob— four of 'em — that have come down as I tell you,
and in a moment Mr. Tatt's prop is gone ! Witchem, he cuts 'em off at the door,
I lay about me as hard as I can, Mr. Tatt shows fight like a good 'un, and there
we are, all down together, heads and heels, knocking about on the floor of the bar
— perhaps you never see such a scene of confusion ! However, we stick to our
men (Mr. Tatt being as good as any officer), and we take 'em all, and carry 'em
off to the station. The station's full of people, who have been took on the course ;
and it's a precious piece of work to get 'em secured. However, we do it at last,
and we search 'em ; but nothing's found upon 'em, and they're locked up ; and a
pretty state of heat we are in by that time, I assure you !

*'Iwas very blank over it, myself, to think that the prop had been passed
away ; and I said to Witchem, M'hen we had set 'em to rights, and were cooling
ourselves along with Mr. Tatt, ' we don't take much by this move, anyway, for

nothings found upon 'em, and it's only the braggadocia,*' after all.' ' What
do you mean, Mr. Wield?' says Witchem. 'Here's the diamond pin!' and
in the palm of his hand there it was, safe and sound ! ' Why, in the name of
wonder,' says me and Mr. Tatt, in astonishment, 'how did you come by that?'
* I'll tell you how I come by it,' says he. ' I saw vvhich of 'em took it ; and when
we were all down on the floor together, knocking about, I just gave him a little
touch on the back of his hand, as I knew his pal would ; and he thout^ht it was
his pal ; and gave it me ! ' It was beautiful, beau-ti-ful !

" Even that was hardly the best of the case, for that chap was tried at the
Quarter Sessions at Guildford. You know what Quarter Sessions arc, sir. Well,
if you'll believe me, while them slow justices were looking over tlie Acts of Par-
liament, to see what they could do to him, I'm blowed if he didn't cut out of the
dock before their faces ! ^.le cut out of the dock, sir, then and there ; swam across
a river; and got up into u tree to dry himself. In the tree he was took — an old
woman having seen him climb up — and Witchcm's artful touch transported him ! "

* Three months' imprisonment as reputed thieves.

■im i

Ir

■

3

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254,

T/iree *' Detective " Anecdotes.

III.— THE SOFA.

**What young men will do, sometimes, to ruin themselves and break their
friends' hearts," said Sergeant Dornton, "it's surprisin^^- ! I had a case at Saint
Blank's Hospital which was of this sort. A bad case, indeed, with a bad end ! "

" The Secretary, and the House-Surgeon, and the Treasurer, of vSt. Blank's
Hospital, came to Scotland Yard to give information of numerous robberies having
been committed on the students. The students could leave nothing in the pockets
of their great-coats, while the great-coats were hanging at the hospital, but it was
almost certain to be stolen. Property of various descriptions was constantly bein<;
lost ; and the gentlemen were naturally uneasy about it, and anxious, for the credit
of the institution, that the thief or thieves should be discovered. The case was
entrusted to me, and I went to the hospital.

" ' Now, gentlemen,' said I, after we had talked it over; 'I understand this
property is usually lost from one room."

" Yes they saicl. It was.

" ' I should wish, if you please,' said T, ' to see the room.'

'* It was a good-sized bare room downstairs, with a few tables and forms in it,
and a row of pegs, all round, for hats and coats.

" ' Next, gentlemen,' said I, ' do you suspect anybody?'

" Yes, they said. They did suspect somebody. They were sorry to say, they
suspected one of the porters.

*' ' I should like,' said I, *to have that man pointed out to mc and *o have a
little time to look after him.'

'* He was pointed out, and I looked after him, and then I went Lack to the
hospital, and said, ' Now, gentlemen, it's not the porter. He's, ur fortunately for
himself, a little too fond of drink, but he's nothing worse. My sav 'licion is, that
these robberies are committed by one of the students ; and if youU ^ it me a sofa
into that room where the pegs arc — as there's no closet — I t' i"L I slv ih be able to
detect the thief. I wish the sofa, if you please, to bf^- covered with chintz, or
something of that sort, so that I ms^ Ue on my che^t^ undcneadi it;, without
bMng seen.'

•' The sofa was provided, and next day dt cV-ven o'clock, befon; any of the
students came, 1 went ther?, with 'iiose gf mleme;) :o get underneath it. It turned
out to be one of those old-fashioned sofas will ■ a great cross- beam at the bottom,
that would have broken my back in no time if I could ever have got below it. We
had quite a job to break all this away in the time ; however, I fell to work, and
they fell to work, and we broke it out, and made a clear place for me. I got under
the sofa, lay down on my chest, took out my knife, and made a convenient hole in
the chintz to look through. It was then settled between me and the gentlemen
that when the students were all up in the wards, one of the gentlemen should conic
in, and hang up a great coat on one of the pegs. And that that great-coat should
have, "in one of the pockets, a pocket-book containing marked money.

•' After I had been there some time, the students began to drop into the room,
by <^nes, and twos, and threes, and to talk about all sorts of things, little thinking
then was anybody under the sofa — and then to go upstairs. At last there came
in 01. (' -"I'.n 'cmoii-cd until he was alone in the room by himself. A tallish, good-
looking y nmg man of one or two and twenty, with a light whisker. He went to
a nariicj'lpr b"t-peg, took off a f,ood hat that was hanging there, tried it on, hung
hi.s ovM' hat in its plr.cf^, and hung ^uat hat on another peg, nearly opposite to me.
I Cvx''-' ^.''. rjUi..e oertain that he was the thief, and would conic back by-and-by.
*' \^ iicn tlity were all upstairs, the gentleman came in with the great-coat. 1

Under the Sofa,

^55

"(1 break their
^ a case at Saint
i^ a had end ! "
, of St. Blank's
■obberies havinrr
S in the pockets
^'tal, but itM-as
constantly being
s, for the credit
TJie case was

■uiderstand this

idl

onns in it,

>■> to say, they

:iiid k» have a

t baciv to the
fortunately for
'I'cion is, that
, ^ me i\ sofa
';^-J^ be able to
j'^li chintz, or
■^1 it, without

'« any of the
it. It turned

the bottom,
)eJo^v it. We
owork, and

} got under
nient hole in
'e gentlemen
should come
-coat should

> the room,
tie thinkin<,r
tbere came
'lish, good-
He went to
't on, hung
site to me.
and -by.
U-coat. 1

showed him where to hang it, so that I might have a good view of it ; and he went
away ; and I lay under the sofa on my chest, for a couple of hours or so, wait ng.

" At last, the same young man came down. He walked across the room,
whistling — stopped and listened — took another walk and whistled— sopped again,
and listened — then began to go regularly round the pegs, feeling in the pockets of
all the coats. When he came to the great-coat, and felt the pocket-book, he was
so eager and so hurried that he broke the strap in tearing it open. As he began
to put the money in his pocket, I crawled out from under the sofa, and his eyes
met mine.

" My face, as you may perceive, is brown now, but it was pale at that time, ray
health not being good ; and looked as long as a horse's. IJesides which, there was
a great draught of air from the door, underneath the sofa, and I had tied a hand-
kerchief round my head ; so what I looked like, altogether, I don't know. He
turned blue — literally blue — when he saw n;e crawling out, and I couldn't feel
surprised at it.

" ' I am an officer of the Detective Police,' said T, * and have been lying here,
since you first came in this morning. I regret, for tlie sake of yourself and your
friends, that you sho'dd have done what you have ; but this case is complete.
You have the pocket-book in your hand and the money upon }-ou ; and I muat
take you into custody ! '

" It was impossible to make out any case in his behalf, and on bis tr-al ho
pleaded guilty. How or when he got the means I don't know ; but while he was
awaiting his sentence, he poisoned himself in Newgate."

We inquired of thirofiicer, on the conclusicui of the foregoing anecdote, wl'ether
the time appeared long, or short, when he lay in tliat constrained position wndcx
the sofa ?

" Why, you see, sir," he replied, "if he hadn't come in. tho first time, and.
I had not been quite sure he was the thief, and would return, the tirn^ would have
seemed long. £ut, as it was, I being dead certain of my ma\), the time seemed
pretty short. "

ON DUTY WITH INSPECT^ R. FIELD.

How goes the night? Saint Gi'es's clock is st " 'ng nin .\ The weather is
dull and wet, apd the long lines of street lamps a. blurred, as if we saw them
through tears. A -damp wind blows and rakes t1 e pieman's fire out, when he
opens the door of his little furnace, carrying away , oddy of sparks.

Saint Giles's clock stiikes nine. We are punctual, \\niere is Inspector Field?
Assistant Commissioner of Police is already here, enwrapped in oil-skiu cloak,
and standing in the shadow of Saint Giles's stee^k^ Detective Sergeant, weary
of speaking French all day to foreigners unpackmg at the Great Exhibition, is
already here. Where is Inspector Field ?

Inspector Field is, to-night, the guardian genius of the British Museum. He is
bringing his shrewd eye to bear on every corner of ;i ; solitary galleries, before lie
reports "all right." Suspicious of the Elgin mar'.cs, and not to be done by
cat-faced Eg)-ptian giants with their hands upon tlieir knees, Inspector Field,

, 1

I .

• - •*!((♦

imt^yiMim^:

! !■ ' :)

« » H!

256

(9// Z^'/^v '»<:'//// Inspector Field.

sagacious, vigilant, lamp in hand, throwing monstrous shadows on the walls and
ceilings, passes through the spacious rooms. If a mummy trembled in an atom of
its dusty covering, Inspector Field would say, "Come out of that, Tom (irecn. 1
know you!" If the smallest " (lonojih " about town were crouching at the
bottom of a classic bath. Inspector Field woidd nose him with a finer scent than
the ogre's, when adventurous Jack lay trembling in his kitchen copper. But all is
quiet, and Inspector Field goes warily on, making little outward show of attend-
ing to anything in particular, just recognising the Ichthyosaurus as a famiHar
ac(juaintance, and wondering, perhaps, how the detectives did it in the days before
the Flood.

Will Inspector Field be long about this work? He may be half-an-hour longer.
He sends his compliments by Police Constable and projvoses that we meet at vSt.
Giles's Station House, across the road. Good. It were as well to stand by the
fire, there, as in the shadow of Saint CJiles's steeple.

Anything doing here to-night ? Not much. \Vc arc very quiet. A lost boy,
extremely calm and small, sitting by the fire, whom we now confide to a constable
to take home, for the child says that if you show him Newgate Street, he can
show you where he lives — a raving drunken woman in the cells, who has screeched
her voice away, and has hardly power enough left to declare, even with the
passionate help of her feet and arms, that she is the daughter of a British officer,
and, strike her blintl and dead, but she'll write a letter to the Queen ! but who is
soothed with a drink of water — in another cell, a quiet woman with a child at her
breast, for begging — in another, her husband in a smock-frock, with a basket of
watercresses — in another, a pickpocket — in another, a meek tremulous old pauper
man who has been out for a holiday " and has took but a little drop, but it has
overcome him after so many months in the house " — and that's all as yet.
Presently, a sensation at the Station House door. Mr. Field, gentlemen !

Inspector I'iold comes in, wiping his forel, ad, for he is of a burly figure, and
has come fast from the ores and metals of the deep mines of the earth, and from
the Parrot Gods of ihe South Sea Islands, and from the birds and beetles of the
tropics, and from the Arts of Greece and Rome, and from the Sculptures of
Nineveh, and from tlie traces ot an elder world, when these were not. Is Rogers
ready? Rogers is ready, strapped and great-coated, with a flaming eye in the
middle of his waist, like a deformed Cyclops. Lead on, Rogers, to Rats' Castle !

How many people nry there be in London, who, if we had brought them
deviously and blindfold, to this street, fifty paces from the Station House, and
within call of Saint Giles's church, would know it for a not remote part of the city
in which their lives are passed ? How many, who amidst this compound of sick-
ening smells, these heaps of filth, these tumbling houses, with all their vile con-
tents, animate, and inanimate, slimily overflowing into the black road, would
believe that they breathe this air? How much Red Tape may there be, that
could look round on the faces which now hem us in — for our appearance here has
caused a rush from all points to a common centre — the lowering foreheads, the
sallow cheeks, the brutal eyes, the matted hair, the infected, vermin-haunted heaps
of rags — and say "I have thought of this. I have not dismissed the thing. I
have neither blustered it away, nor frozen it away, nor tied it up and pi^t it away,
nor smoothly said pooh, pooh ! to it when it has been shown to me ? "

This is not what Rogers wants to know, however. What Rogers wants to
know, is, whether you luill clear the way here, some of you, or whether you
won't ; because if you don't do it nght on end, he'll lock you up ! What ! You
are there, are you. Bob Miles? Vou haven't had enough of H yet, haven't you?
You want three months more, do you? Come away fivm that gentleman! What
are you creeping round there for ? "

Rats' Castle.

^57

;t.

on the walls and
Ictl^ in an atom of

Tom Green. I
rouching at the
hner scent than
'per. But all is
show of attend-
»'s as a familiar

tlic days before

an-hour longer.

t we meet at St!

to stand by the

A lost boy,
iL' to a constable
' Street, he can
lo has screeched
even with the
I British officer,
;en ! but who is
li a child at her
vitli a basket of
Jous old pauper
^lop, but it has
t s all as yet.
lemen .'

urly figure, and
•aith, and from
I beetles of the
; Sculptures of
ot. Is Rogers
'".? eye in the
Kats' Castle !
brought them
'n House, and
)art of the city
3ound of sick-
heir vile con-
road, would
here be, that
ance here has
breheads, the
launted heaps
the thing. I j
^piU it away,

ers wants to '
whether you j
Vhat! You \
laven't you ?
lan ! What

" Wiial an» I a dinng, tliinn, Mr. Rogers?" says Bob Mih^s, appearing,

villanous, at the end of a lane of light, made by the lantern.

"I'll let you know ])retty cpiick, if you don't hook it. WWA. you hook it ? "'
A sycophantic nnumur ri^cs from the crowd. "Hook it.'lJob, when Mr.

Kogers and Mr. Field tells you ! \Vhy don't you hook it, when you aie

(old to?" ^ J .

The most iuiporlunate of the voices strikes familiarly oPi Mr. Rogers's ear. He
■suddenly turns his lantern on the owner.

" What ! You are there, are you, Mister Click ? Vou hook il too— come ! "

" What fo-? " says Mr, Click, discomfited.

•* You hook it, Mill you ! '' says Mr. Rogers with s'ern emphasis.

IJoth Click ;uk1 Miles do "hook it," without another word, or, in plainer
English, sneak awny.

" Clo^;e up there, my men!" says Inspector Field to two constables on duty
\\\\o have followed. "Kc-'p together, gentlemen; we arc going down here.
Heads!"

Saint Giles's church strikes half-]-)ast ten. We stoop lo\\', and creep down a
precipitous flight of steps into a dark close cellar, There is a fire. There is a
long deal table. There are benclies. 'i'he cellar is full of company, chiefly very
young men in various conditions of dirt and raggedness. Some are eating supper.
There are no girls or women present. Welcome to Rats' Castle, gentlemen, and
to this company of noted thieves !

"Well, my lads! How arc you, iny lads? What have you been doing to-
day? Here's some company come to sec you, my lads ! There's a plate of beef-
steak, sir, for tlic supj)er of a fine young man ! And there's a mouth for a steak,
sir! Why, I shf-nld be too jv/oud of such a . i • Uh as that, if I h.ad it myself !
Stand up and sliow it, sir ! Take off your ca^^^'. There's a fine young man for a
nice little party, sir ! A n't he ? "

Inspector Field is the bustling speaker. Inspector Field's eye is the roving eye
that searches every corner of the cellar as he talks. Inspector Field's hand is the
well-known hand that has collared half the people here, and motioned their
brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, male and female friends, inexorably to New
South Wales. Yet Inspector Field stands in this den, the Sultan of the place.
Every thief here cowers before him, like a schoolboy before his schoolmaster.
All watch him, all answer when addressed, all laugh at his jokes, all seek to pro-
pitiate him. This cellar company alone — to say nothing of the crowd surrounding
the entrance from the street al). ''^, and making the steps shine with eyes — is
strong enough to murder us all, and willing enough to do it ; but, let Inspector
Field have a mind to pick out one thief here, and take him ; let him produce that
ghostly truncheon from his pocket, and say, with his business-air, "My lad, I
want you ! " and all Rats' Castle shall be stricken with paralysis, and not a finger
move against liim, as ho fits the handcuffs on !

Where's the Earl of Warwick ?— Here he is, Mr. Field! Here's the Earl cf
Warwick, Mr. Field ! — O there you are, my Lord. Come for'ard. There's a
chest, sir, not to have a clean shirt on. An't it. Take your hat off, my Lord.
Why, I shoidd be ashamed if 1 was you — and an Earl, too— to show myself
to a gentleman with my hat on ! — The Earl of Warwick laughs and uncovers.
All the company laugh. One pickpocket, especially, laughs with great en-
thusiasm. O what a jolly game it is, when Mr. Field comes down — and don't
want nobody !

So, you are here, too, are you, you tall, grey, soldierly-looking, grave man,
standing by the fire? — Yes, sir. Good evening, Mr. Field !— Let us see. You
lived servant to a nobleman once? — Yes, Mr. Field. — And what is it you do now ;

s

\

I

(1

i

lit

25S

Oii, J)uty lail/i Inspector Field.

•m

I forjjct ? — Well, Mr. I-'icld, I job nhout as well as I can. I left my cmplny-
iTicnt oil acc'diiit of (Iclic'ih- licallli. The nunily is still Idiid lo riic. Mr. Wix u[
riccri'lilly i^ also very kiii'l to iiic wlioii I am hard uj). Likcvvrsc Mr. Nix o(
Oxfortl .Street. [ jjcl. a trifle from them oceasionally, aivl nil) on as \^ell .1,
I can, Mr. l''ield. .Mr. I'"i';ld's eye rolls <'njoyinj,dy, for this m.iii is a iiotorioii,
l)('j;{Mn}j-leltfr writer.- (iood niijlil, iny lads! — <iood iiijdit, .Mr. I'icld, arnl
IhanU'ee, sir !

Clear the street 1km<-, half a thousand of you ! C.'iil it, .Mrs. .Stalker—none of
that — \vc don't w.iiil )u\\ ! isomers of the fianiin}; eye, hsid on to the tramps'
Jo(l};in}.;-lioii',e !

h dream of baleful faces attends to the floor. N(nv, stand back all of you ! In
the rear iJetective .Serj^eant plants himself, composedly whist linj.f, with his stronj;
rijdit arm aero .s the narrow passa/v-. Mrs. Stali^cr, I am somctliirufd that nfi;.|
not be written here, if you won't };et yourself int(j Irouljle, in about half a minute,
if I see that face of yours a{;ain !

Saint Ciiles's church clock, strikiujj eleven, hums throu;;h our hand from t!i<:
dilaj lated d(K>r of a d.'uk outhouse ;is we o|)en it, and are stricken back bylh'-

Iieslilent breath that issues from within. Ro{;ers to the front with the li[;hf, and
et us look !

Ten, twenty, thirty -who can count them ! Men, women, children, for tli<
most part naked, lusiped upon the floor like maf.j^ol-i in a chec e ! ilo ! In th.it
(lark corner yonder! hoes anybody lie there? Me sir, Irisii me, a widder, with
si.K children. And ytjnder ? Me sir, Irish me, with me wife ;ind eifdit ])oor babes.
And to the left there? Me sir, Irish me, alon^j with two more Iri-.li boys as i-. me
friends. And to the ri^ht there? Me sir and the .Murphy fam'ly, mmdjcrinf^ five
])lesse(l souls. And what's this, coiliiifr, now, aliout my foot ? .(Another Irish me,
|)itifully in want of shaviti}^, whom I liave awakened from sleeji — anfl across my
other foot lii;s his wife- and by the shoes (;f Ins|)cctor I'ield lie their three eldest.
— and their three younj^ust arc at present squeezed between the open door and the
wall. And why is there no f)iic on that little mat before the sullen fire? Hecause
O'Donovan, with his wife and daughter, is not come in from seliiiii; Lucifers ! Nor
on the bit of sacking; in the nearest corner? 15ad luck ! liecause that Irish family
is late to nijdit, s-cadfjin}^ in the streets !

They arc all *»vake now, the children cxcc|)ted, and most of them sit up, to
stare. Wheresoever Mr. Kojjers turns the flaniinf; eye, there is a spectral fifnire
rising, unshrouded, from a grave of rags. Who is the Imdlord here?— I am, Mr.
I'"i(dd I says a bundle of libs cmd parchment against the wall, scratching itscdf. —
Will y(<u spend this money fairly, in the morning, to buy coffee for 'em all ? — Yes,
sir, I will !-() he'll cIo it, sir, he'll do it fair. lie's honest ! cry the spectres. And
with thaidis and Oood Night sink into their graves again.

Thus, we make our New Oxford Streets, and our other new streets, never heed-
ing, never asking, wlu:re the wretches whom we clear out, crcnvd. With such
scenes at our doors, with all the plagues of I'-gypt tied up with bits of cobweb in
kennels so near our homes, we timorously make our Nuisance iJills and l>oards f)f
Health, nonentities, and think to kec]) away the Wolves of Crime and Mith, by
our cleclioneer'ng ducking lo little vestrymen and our gentlemanly handling of
Red Tape !

Intelligence of the coffee money has got abroad. The yard is full, and Rogers
of the flaming eye is beleaf^'uered with entreaties to show other Lodging Houses.
Mine next I Mine! Mine! Rogers, military, (jbdurate, stiff-necked, immovable,
replies not, but leads away; all falling back before him. Inspector Field follows,
hctective .Sergeant, with his barrier of arm across the little passage, deliberately
wails to close the [jrocession. He sees behind him, without any effort, and exceed-

M.

The Old Mint,

»59

I widdcr, Willi

iiij^ly (listurl)S one indivulunl far in the rear by coolly calling out, "It \Non'l(lo
Mr. Michael ! Don'f try it !"

After couiK il lioMcn in llur slrfot, wc rntor f>tlier Indi^int^' houses, pul)lic-Iiouscs,
many lairs and holes ■ all Tioisf)in(: au'l offensive ; none so filthy niul so crowded as
where Irish are. in one, 'J he iMhiopian ]>:irty arc ex|»cctefl home presently — were
ill Oxford Street uIk-ii I;i:,t heard ol sli;dl he fetched, for our 'icli^ht, within ten
minutes. In another, one of the two or three Professors wlw) draw Na|)oIeon
l!uona|)arte and a couj)le of maekercl, on the pavement, and then let the work of
;iit out to a sj)eculator, is refreshing; after lii, lal)f)rs. In a'K^ther, the vested inte-
rest of the profiLihle nuisance hn> jieen in one family r>r .i Inmdred years, and the
l:infllord drives in eomfortahly from liie country to hi, snu;; little stew in t';wn. In
;ill. Inspector Field is reccivc<l witli \v;irinlh. (,'oiiiers and smashers firoop before
him ; jiickpockets defer to him ; tiie 'ciitle sex (not very (ynlle here) smile Uf)on
him. Ilalf-drunhen lia^s check tlicm ,clve.; in the mid-,1 of |(ots of heer, or pints
of ^011, to drink to Mr. I'ield, and j)icssinfjly to ask the honor of his finishing; the
draufdit. One heldnmc in rusty hlaek has sueh admiration for him, that she nins
a whole street's lerifMh to shal:*; him hy tlie hand ; fumldinf; intc) ri heaj) of mud
hy the way, and still pressiiiff her attentions when her >ery form has ceased to l»e
distin^'iiishahle through it. I'.elorc the powei of the law, the power of suf)erior
sense- -for common thieves are fool.-, lH::^ide these men -and tlie j^ower of a pi-rfect
mastery of their eharacler, the ^jarrison of Rats' ('asllc and the adjacent Korlresscs;
make but a skulkinj; show indeed when reviewed hy Inspector FieUK

Saint (Giles's ch^k says it will he midnijjht in half an-honr, and Inspector Field
says we must hurry to the ()ld .Mint in the lloroiigh. The cah-d ivcr is low-
spirited, and has a scdemn sense of his responsihiiily. Now, v;hat s your fare, my
lad? C)j/^« know, Inspector Field, what's the good of asl;inpj me!

Sa_ , Parker, slra[»ped and focal fonled, aiul waiting; in dim I'orouf^h df^orv.ay
hy appointment, to leplnee the Iru ly kojjers whom \ve left dee|) in Saint ^iile^'s,
are you ready? Ready, Iii'^pcctor I'icld, and at a motion uS my wrist behold my
flaming eye.

This narrow street, sir, is the chief part of the Old .Mint, full of low loflfdng-
houses, as you see 1)y the transparent canvas-lamps and blinds, annoiin< ing bf;r| ,
for travellers I lUit it is greatly changed, friend I'ield, fioin my former knowledge
of it ; it is infinitely quieter and more subdued than when I vvxs here last, s(;me
seven years ago ? O yes! Inspector ilayncs, a firsl-rale man, is on thi.s station
now and jilays the I)evil with them !

Well, my lads ! How are you to-night, my la'Is? T'laying card^ here, eh ? Who
wins ? Why, Mr. Field, I, the sulky gentleman with the flamp flat side-curls,
rubbing my bleared eye with the end of my neckerchief which is like a dirty
eel-skin, am losing just at present, but I supi^ose I must take my^^-pc out of my
mouth, and be submissive to j(^w— I hope I ^ee you well, Mr. Field?-- Aye, all
light, my lad. Deputy, who lia\e you r^ot up-stairs ? i'e jjleased to show the
rooms !

Why Deputy, Inspector I-'ield can't say. lie only knows that the mnn wlio takes
(.arc of the beds and lodgers is always called so. Steady, (J Deputy, with the
flaring candle in tiie blacking-bottle, for this is a slushy back-yard, and the woodcii
staircaSe outside the house creaks and has holes in it.

Again, in these confined intolerable rofjms, biirrf>\ved out like the holes of rats
or the.ncsls of insect-vermin, but fuller of intolerable smells, are < rowds of
sleepers, each on his f(;ul truckle-bed coiled u]) beneath a rug. nallf>a here!
Come ! Let us see you ! Show your face ! Pilot Parker goes from bed to bed
and turns their slumbering heads towanis us, as a salesman might turn sheep. Some
wake UD with an execration and a threat. — What ! who spoke ? O ! If it's the

I!

f'^'itm^mmi:± ximm

1

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1' ]

260

O/i Duty li'ith In spec for FichL

accursed j^larinj,' eye tliat fixes ino, \u^ where T will, I am liclpk"--;. Here ! I -it
up to be looked at. Is it nic }(jii want? Not you, lie dcjwn again! and I lie
flown, with a woful f^rowl.

Wherever the turnini^ lane of lii^ht becomes stationary for a moment, sonic
sleeper appears at the end of if, submits himself to be scrutinised, and fades away
into the darkness.

There sliould be stranj^c dreams here, Deputy. Thcv sleep sound enoufjh, say.
Deputy, taking the candle out of the blacking-bottle, snuffing it with his fingers,
throwing the snuff into the bottle, and corking it up with the caiulle ; that's all /
know. What is the inscription. Deputy, uw all the discoloured sheets? A ])re-
caution against loss of linen. Dejjuty turns ([oww the rug of an unoccupied bed
and discloses it. Slop 'i'uir.F !

'!'(> lie at night, wrajiped in the legend of my slinking life ; to take the cry that
pursues me, waking, to my breast in sleep ; to have it staring at me, and clamour-
ing for me, as sofjn as consciousness returns ; to have it for my first-f'xjt on \i w-
Year's day, my Valentine, my iJirtliday salute, my Christmas greeting, my parting
with the old year. Slop 'riiii:!' !

And to know that I 7)iiist be stcjpped, come what will. To know that I am no
match f(n" this individual energy and keeimess, or this organised and steady
.system ! Come across the street, here, and, entering by a little shop, and
yard, examine these intricate passages and doors, contrived for escape, flap-
ping and counter-dapping, like the lids of the conjuror's boxes. llut what
avail theyV Who gets in by a nod, and shows their secret working to us? In-
.spector Field.

Don't forget the u\(\ I'arm House, Parker ! Parker is not the man to forget it.
We are going there, now. It is the old Manor-House of these parts, and stood
in the country {;ncc. Then, perhaps, there was something, whicli was not the
Ijcastly street, to sec from the shattered low fronts of the overhanging wooden
houses we are passing under — shut up now, ])asted over with bills about the litera-
ture and drama of the Mint, and mouldering away. This long paved yard was a
paddock or a garden once, or a court in front of the Farm House. Perchance,
with a dovecot in the centre, and fowls jiccking about — with fair elm trees, then,
where discoloured chimney-stacks and gables are now — noisy, then, with rooks
which have yielded \.o a different sort of rookery. It's likelier than not, Inspectrn*
Field thinks, as we turn into the common kitchen, which is in the yard, and many
paces from the house.

Well my lads and lasses, how are you all? Where's Plackey, who l)as stood
near London Bridge these five-and-twenty years, with a painted skin to represent
disease? — Here he is, Mr. I'ield ! — How are you, Blackey? — Jolly, sa ! Not
])laying the fiddle to-night, Plackey ?— Not a night, sa ! A sharp, smiling youth,
the wit of the kitchen, interposes. He an't musical to-night, sir. Fvc been giving
him a moral lecture ; I've been a talking to him about his latter end, you see. A
good many of these arc my pupils, sir. This here young man (smoothing down
the hair of one near him, reading a Sunday paper) is a ]nipil of mine. I'm a
teaching of him to read, sir. He's a promismg cove, sir. I le's a smith, he is, and
gets his living by the sweat of the brow, sir. So do I, myself, sir. This young
woman is my sister, Mr. Field. Slices getting on very well too. I've a deal
of trouble with 'em, sir, but I'm richly rewarded, now I see 'em all a doing so
well, and growing up so creditable. That's a great comfort, that is, an't it, sir?
— In the midst of the kitchen (the whole kitchen is in ecstacies ^yith this impromptu
" chaff ") sits a young, modest, gentle-looking creature, with a beautiful child in
her lap. She seems to belong to the company, but is so strangely unlike it. She has
j fcuch a pretty, quiet face and voice, and is so proud to hear the child admired —

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261

Here! J i,
iK'i'n ! anfl I j,,.

moment, sonic
and fades away

hi enoufjh, say,
v'll. l.is r,n^re,,s.
['•' ; lliat's all /
Hiccts ? A pre.
liinoccujjicd bed

'<^' the cry that

". •'^nd clamour.

||f"ot on Xlw-

'"fa'i Jny l)arlin,'.;

^ that I am no
^^•d nn'l steady
ttic .shoj), and
" escape, fla])-
^'^- IJut what
'^' to us? In.

I'-in to forgot it.
't^, and stood
'» was jiot tlie
finding woojdcn
'out tile h'tera-
ed yard was a
'■• i'erchance,
'» trees, then,
-'", witJi rooks
not, Inspectfa-
ird, and many

lio Jms stood

I to rc])resent

'y. sa ! Not

nihng youth,

e been givin^r
you see. A

othing down

Tfiine. I'm a

th, he is, and
1'his young
I've a deal j
a doing so '

an't it, sir? j

> impromptu '

(ul child in

Jt. She has

admired —

thinks you woidd liardly believe that he is only nine r.onths old ! Is she as bad
a^ the rest, I wonder? Inspectorial experience docs 1.1, t engender a belief contra-
riwise, but prompts the answer, Not a ha'porth of difference !

'iherc is a piano going in the old I'arm House as we approacli. It stops.
Landlady appears. Has no objections, Mr, Field, to gentlemen being brouglit,
l)Ut wishes it were at earlier hours, the lodgers compl, ining of ill-conwenicncc.
Inspector I'ield is polite and sof)thing — knows his woman and the sex. I)ci)uty (a
^irl in this case) shows the way up a heavy brf)ad old staircase, kept very dean,
into clean rooms where many sleepers are, aufl where painted ]>anels of an older
time look strangely on the truckle bcrs. The sight of whitewash and the smell
of soap— two things we seem by this time to have parted from in infancy —make
the old Farm House a phenomenon, and connect themselves with the so curiously
misplaced picture (jf the pretty mcjther and clnld long after we have left it, — long
after we have left, besides, the nciglibouring nook with something of a rustic
flavour in it yet, where once, beneath a low wooden C(jlonnade still standing as of
)(»re, the eminent Jac k Sheppard condescenrled to regaU- himself, and where, now,
two old bachelor brothers in broad hats (who are whisjKTed in the Mint to have
made a comj)act long ago that if either should ever marry, he must forfeit his
share of the joint |)roperty) still kee]) a serpiestercfl tavern, and sit o' nights
smoking pi[)cs in the bar, annMig ancient bottles and glasses, as our eyes behold
them.

How goes the night now? Saint Cleorge fif Southwark answers with twelve
blows upon his bell. I'arker, good night, for Williams is already waiting over in
the region of Katcliffe Highway, to slu)W the houses where the sailf)rs datice.

I should like to know where Inspectfjr h'ield was lx)rn. In Katcliffe Highway,
I would have answered with confidence, but for his being e'|ually at home where-
evcr we go, J/c does not trouble his head as I do, about the river at night.
//e does not care for its creeping, black and silent, on our right there, rushing
through sluice gates, lapi>ing at i)iles and ])osts and iron rings, hiding strange
things in its nnid, running away with suicides and accidentally drowned bodies
faster than midniglit funeral slunild, and ac(|uiring such various experience between
its cradle and its grave. It has no mystery for //////. Is there not the Thames
Police !

Accordingly, Williams leads the way. We arc a little late, for some of the
houses are already closing. No matter, Vou show us plenty. All the landlords
know Inspector Field. All pass him, freely anfl good-humrairedly, wheresoever he
wants to go. So thoroughly are all these houses o]<en to him and OMr ' ' gi^ii'le,
that, granting that sailors must be entertained in their own way — as i. ^ ,. >se they
must, and have a right to be — I hardly know how such places could be better
regulated. Not that I call the company very select, or the dancing very graceful
— even so graceful as that of the (German Sugar l)akers, whose assembly, by the
Minories, we stopped to visit — l)Ut there is watchful maintenance of order in every
house, and swift expulsion wliere need is. l^vcn in the midst of drunkenness, both
of the lethargic kind and the lively, there is sharp landlord supervision, and
pockets are in less peril than out of doors. These houses show, singularly, how
much of the picturesrpic and romantic there truly is in the sailor, re(iuiring to be
especially addressed. All the songs (sung in a liaiihtorm of halfpence, which are
pitched at the singer without the least tenderness for the time or tune— mostly from
great rolls of copper carried for the purpose— and which he occasionally dodges like
shot as they fly near his head) are of the sentimental sea sort. All the rooms arc
decorated with nautical subjects. Wrecks, engagements, ships on fire, ships pass-
ing lighthouses on iron-bound coasts, ships blowing up, sliips going down, ships
running ashore, men lying out upon the main yard in a gale of wind, sailors and

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262

On Duty with InspecUtr Field.

nliips in cverv variety of peril, constitute the illuKtrattrms of fact, Nothinjj can \v.
ilonc in the fanciful way, without a tliunipinij boy upon a scaly dolphin.

How K^CH the ni^ht now? Past one. iJlack and Green are waiting in Whitf
(hapcl to unveil the myfctericH of VV*e/i worth Street. Williams, the best of fricnfl,
iiiu.st part. Adieu !

Are not TJlack and Green ready at the at)nointed place? O ycH ! 'I'hcy jjl id-
out of shadow as we stop. Imperturbable lilack oper; . the cab-door; Impcrtur
babic Green takes a mental n(;tc of the driver, iJolh Green and lilack then open,
each hi.H flaming eye, and marshal us the way that we are going.

The lodging- nou.sc we want, is hidden in a ina/c of streets and court*. It i .
fast shut. We knock at the door, anrl stand hushed looking up for a light at one
«jr other of the begrimed old latfice windows in its ugly front, when another cori
stable cornea up — supposes that we want " to see the school." Detective .Sergeant
meanwhile has got over a rail, opened a gale, dropped down an area, overcome sonic
other little obstacles, and tapped at a wind(jw. Now returns. The landlord will
send a deputy immediately.

Deputy \% heard to stumble out of bed. Deputy lights a candle, draws back ,1
bolt or two, and appears at the do(»r. Deputy is a shivering shirt and trousers by
no means clean, a yawning face, a shock head much confused externally and inter-
nally. We want to lofjk for some one. Y(ni may go up with the light, and take
'em all, if vou like, says Deputy, resigning it, and silting down upon a Ijench in the
kitchen wUh his ten fmgers sleepily twisting in his hair.

Halloa here! Now then ! Show yourselves. That'll do. It's not you. Don't
disturb yourself any m(*re ! So on, Jirough a labyrinth of airless rooms, each man
responding, like a wild beast, to the keeper who has tamed him, and who goes
into his cage. What, you haven't found him, then ? says Deputy, when we came
down, A woman mysteriously sitting up all night in the dark by the smouldering
ashes of the kitchen fire, says it's only tramps and cadgers here ; it's gonophs over
the way. A man, mysteriously walking aUjut the kitchen all night in the dark,
bids her hold her tongue. We come out. Deputy fastens the door and gc^s to
bed again.

lilack and Green, you know Bark, lodging-house keeper and receiver of stolen
goods? — 0 yes, Inspector I'ield, — Go to liark's next.

liark sleeps in an inner wooden hutch, near his street-door. As we parley on
the step with iJark's Deputy, iiark growls in his bed. We enter, and liark flics
out of l;ed. Hark is a red villain and a wrathful, with a sanguine throat that looks
very much as if it were expressly made for hanging, as he stretches it out, in pale
defiance, over the lialf-door of his hutch, liark's parts of speech are of an awful
jMjrt — principally adjectives, I won't, says I'ark, have no adjective police and
adjective .strangers in my adjective premises ! I w(;n't, by adjective and substan-
tive ! Give me my trousers, and I'll send the whole adjective police to adjective
and substantive ! Give me, says liark, my adjective trousers ! I'll put an adjec-
tive knife in the whole bileing of 'em. I'll punch their adjective heads. I'll rip
up their adjective substantives. Give me my adjective trousers ! says Bark, and
I II spile the bileing of 'em !

Now, liark, wliai's the use of this? Here's lilack and Green, Detective Ser-
geant, and Inspector Field, You know we will come in, — I know you won't !
says Bark. Somebody give me my adjective trousers ! Bark's trousers seem diffi-
cult to find. He calls for them as Hercules might for hLs club. Give me my
iidjective trousers ! says Bark, and I'll spile the bileing of *em.

Inspector Field holds that it's all one whether Bark likes the visit or doii like
it, lie, Ir ,pcctor I'ield, is an Inspector of the Detective Police, Detective Ser-
geant is Detective Sergeant, Black and Green are constables in uniform. Don't

Nothing can )>^
Ipnin.

vaitin^r in Whitr-
"c best (jffticri'l

floor; Jmpertur
'Jack then ojien,

HfJ courlii. Jf i
or a :i^rht at one
hen another con
elective Sergeant
, overcome .Honn:
'he landJonJ will

'e, flraws back a
t anrl trousers by
ntnlly anrl inter-
c light, and take
JM a benc/i in the

not you. Don't
ooms, cacJi man
I, and who p;oes
. when we came '
the smouldering
t's gonoi»hs over
''t in the dark,
loor and gr^s to

iceiver of stolen I

U we parley on
and JJark flics
ifoat that looks
It out, in pale
re of an awful
ive police and
• and substan-
ice to adjective
I put an adjec-
lea'is. I'll rip
ays /3ark, and

detective Ser-
w you won't !
ers seem diffi-
Give me my

o*" do- like
)etective Ser-
form. Don't

j4t Bu/Zy liarli'u

26^

\

y')\x be a fool, iJark, or you know it will be the worse for you. — I don't care, My^
I'ark. (iivc me my adjective trousers !

At two o'cU'ck in tin: morning, we descend into Tiark's low kUchen, Icavin;'
I'.ark to foam at the mouth abov(!, and Jm[XTturl;:iblc lilack and (irecn to lf>ok at
him. iJark';, kitchen is crammed ful! of thieves, holding a cnnversnzione there by
lamp-light. It is by far the most dangerous as ,embly we have seen yef. Stimu-
lated by the ravings u\ I'ark, above, their look, arfj sullen, but not a man speaks.
We asccnfl again. iJark has got his trousers, and i> in a slate of madness in the
passage with his back against a door that shuts off the up[><.r staircisc. \Vc observe,
in other resjHrctH, a ferocious indivifhiality in Bark. Insteafl of *' Stop TniKP ! "
on his linen, he prints "S'K^i.k.s fko.m Bark's I "

Now Hark, we arc going upstairs! —No, you ain't ! — Vou refuse admission to
the Police, do you, Hark ? —Yes, I do ! I refuse it to all the adjective police, and
to all the arljective substantives. If the adjective coves in the kitchen was men,
they'd come up now, and do for you ! Shut me that there door! says Hark, and
HUfldcnly we are enchased in the passage. They'd come up and do f'>r you ! cries
Hark, and wails. Not a sound in the kitchen I They'd come up and do for you !
cries Hark again, anrl waits. Not a sound in the kitchen I We are shut up, ^lalf-
a-do7,cn of us, in Hark's house in the innermost recesses of the worst part of I^ondon,
in the dead of the night -the house is crammed with notoriotis robbers anrl ruffians
— and not a man stir .. No, Hark, 'i hey know the weight of the law, and they know
Inspector Fieid and Co. too well.

We leave bully P.ark tf) subside at lei'.ure out of his passion and his trousers,
and, I dare say, to be inconveniently reminrled of this little brush before long.
HIack anfl fjreen dri ordinary duty here, and look scriou'..

As to White, who waits on Ilolhorn Hill to show the courts that arc eaten out
of Kotten Gray's Inn Lane, where other lodging-houses are, and where (in one
blind alley) the Thieves' Kitchen and Seminary for the teaching of the art to chil-
dren, Ls, the night has .0 worn away, being now

almo'tt at odJi wiih morning, whicli is which,

that they are quiet, and no light shines through the chinks in
undistinctive Death will come here, one day, sleep comes now.
from troubling sometimes, evca in this life.

the shutters. As
The wicked ccaj»c

9*'*^ -4

26.|.

/>^r//« 7iM the Tide.

DOWN WITH THE TIDE.

I A VERY (lark nij^'ht it was, and hitter cold ; the cast wind blowing l;Icak, anrl
I })rinjjing witli it stinj^ing particles from marsh, anrl moor, and fen— from the (ircat
iJescrt and Old Kgypt, may bo. Some of the component parts of the sharp-edged
I vaf)our that tame Hying up the Thames at Ixmdon might be mummy-dust, dry
j afr>ms from the Temjjle at Jerusalem, camels' foot-prints, crocodiles' hatching
places, loosened grains of expression from the visages of blunt-nosed sphynxcs,
waifs and strays from caravans of turbaned merchants, vegetation from jungles,
frozen snow from the Himalayas. O ! It was very very dark upon the Thames,
and it was bitter bitter cold.

"And yet," said the voice within the great pea-coat at my side, "you'll have
ficen a good many rivers too, I dare say ?

"Truly," said I, " when I come to think of if, not a ic^v. From the Niagara,
downward to the mountain rivers of Italy, which are like the national sjjirit — very
tame, or chafmg suddenly and bursting bounfls, only to fhvindic away again. The
Moselle, and the Rhine, and the Rhone ; and the Seine, and the Saone ; and the
St. Lawrence, Missi:>sippi, and Ohio ; and the Tiber, the I'o, and the Arno ; and
the "

Peacoat coughing as if he had had enojigh of that, I said no more. T could have
carried the catal(;gue on to a teasing length, though, if I had been in the cmel
mind.

" And after all," said he, "this looks so dismal?"

" So awful," I returned, "at night. The Seine at Paris is very gloomy too, at
such a time, and is j>robably the scene of far more crime and greater wickedness ;
but this river looks so broad and vast, so murky and silent, seems such an image
of death in the midst of the great city's life, that "

That Peacoat coughed again. He could not stand my holding forth.

We were in a four-oared Thames Police Galley, lying on our oars in the deep
shadow of Southwark Pridge — under the corner arch on the .Surrey side — having
come down with the tide from Vauxhall. We were fain to bold on pretty tight,
though close in shore, for the river was s- f;llen and the tide running down very
strong. We were watching certain wafer-rats of human growth, and lay in the
deep shade as ruiiet as mice ; our light hidden and our scraps of conversation
carried on in wnisners. Above us, the massive iron girders of the arch were
faintly visible, and below us its ponderous shadow seemed to sink down to the
bottom of the stream.

We had been lying here some half an hour. With our ])acks to the wind, it in
true ; but the wind being in a dctcrminc;d temper blew straight through us, and
would not take the trouble to go round, I would have boarded a fircship to get
into action, and mildlv suggested .as much to my friend Pea.

" No doubt," says he as patiently as possiiile ; " but shore-going tactics wouldn't
do with us. River thieves can always get rid of stolen property in a moment by
dropping it overboarri. We want to take them 7vilh the property, »o we lurVt
about and come out upon 'em sharp. If they see us or hear us, over it goes,"

Pea's wisdom l)eing indisjmtable, there was nothing for it but to sit there and
l)e blown through, for another half hour. The water-rats thinking it wise to

1

Romance of Waterloo Bridge,

265

in<? bleak, aruj
from the (ircat
»e sharp-edged
mmy-dust, dry
lilcs' hatching'

m-A spliynxes,
fiom jiin^des,

>n the Thames,

' you'll have

rn the Niagara,
lal sjjirit — very
^y .igain. The
iaone ; and the
he Arno ; antl

I could have
cji in the cmcl

::Ioomv too, at
;r v/icKcdness ;
iuch an ima;jc

h.

XV, m the deep
' side— having
1 pretty tight,
ng down very
nd Jay in the
conversation
be arch were
down to the

ic wind, it is
f)ugh us, and
rcship to get

:tics wouldn't
L moment hv
»o we lurk
t goes. "
it there and
J it wise to

al;9»cond at the end of that time without commission of felony, we shot out, disap-
j»ointed, with the tide,

" (jrim they look, don't they': " said I'ea, seeing me glance over my shoulder at
the lights upon the bridge, and downward at their long crooked reflections in the
river.

'• Very," said I, " and make one think with a shudder of .Suicides. What a
night for a dreadful leap from thaUpara|>et ! '

" Aye, but Waterloo's the favourite bridge ff>r making holes in the water from,"
nrturnc-fl I'ea. *' l>y the bye — avast pulling, lads !— would you like to speak to
Waterloo on the subject ?"

My face confessing a surprised desire to have *,ome friendly conversation with
Waterloo Hridgc, and my friend I'ea being the nifsst oliliging of men, we put
about, pullcfl out of the force of the stream, anrl in place of going at great speed
with the tide, began to strive against it, close in shore again. I'-very colour but
Ijlack scernefi to have dei>artefl from the world. The air was black, the water was
black, the barges and hulks were black, the piles were black, the buildings were
black, the shadows were only a deeper shade of black upon a black ground. Here
and there, a coal fire in an iron cresset blazed upon a wharf; but, one knew that
it too had been black a little while ago, and would be black again so<m. Uncom-
fortable rushes of water s\iggc-.tive of gurgling and drowning, ghostly rattlings of
iron chains, dismal clankings of fliscordant engines, formed the music that accom-
panied the dip of our oars and their rattling in the ruilocks. Even the noises had
a black sound to me — as the trumpet sounded red to the blind man.

C)ur dexterous boat's crew made nothing of the tide, and pulled us gallantly up
to Waterloo Hridge. Here I'ea and 1 discmbarkerl, passed under the black stone
archway, anrl climbed the steep stone steps. Within a few feet of their summit,
Tea presented me to Waterloo (or an eminent toll-taker representing that
structure), muffled up to the eyes in a thick shawl, and amply great-coated and
fur-capi-H-d.

Waterloo received us with cordiality, and ol>scrvcd of the night that it was "a
Searcher." He hafl been originally called the .Strand liridge, he informed us, but
had received his j>resent name at the suggestion of the proprietors, when Parlia-
ment had resolved to vote three hundred thousand pound for the erection of a
monument in honor of the victory. Parliament took the hint (said Waterloo, with
the least flavour of misanthropy) and saved the money. Of course the late Duke of
Wellington was the first passenger, and of course he paid his penny, and of course
a noble lord preserved it evermore. The treadle and inrlex at the toll-house (a
most ingenious contrivance for rendering fraud impos ible), were invented by Mr.
Ixithbridge, then property-man at Drury I.anc Theatre.

Was it suicide, we wanted to know about? said Waterloo. Ha ! Well, he had
seen a goo<^^l deal of that work, he did assure us. He had prevented some. Why,
one day a woman, poorish looking, came in between the hatch, slap])ed down a
penny, and wanted to go on without the change ! Waterloo sus[)cctcd this, and
says to his mate, " give an eye to the gate," and boltcl after her. She had got to
the third seat Ix-'tween the piers, and was on the parapet just a going over, when
he caught her and gave her in charge. At the police office next morning, she
said it was along of trouble and a barl husbanrl.

** I^ikely enough," observed Waterloo to I'ea and myself, as he adjusted his chin
in his shawl. " There's a deal of trouble about, you see— and bad husbands too ! "

Another time, a young woman at twelve o'clock in the open da/, got through,
darted along ; ami, before Waterloo could come near her, jumped uj)on the
parapet, and shot herself over sideways. Alarm given, watermen put off, lucky
escape. — Clothes bu(jyed her up.

26

l\

Do^vn with the Tide.

"This is wliere it is," said Waterloo. "If pcojilc jump off straight forward-,
from tlie middle of the parapet of the bays of the bridge, they are seldom killed by
drowning, but arc smashed, poor things ; that's what ffuy arc ; they dash them-
selves upon the buttress of the bridge, liut you jump off," said Waterloo to me,
putting his forefinger in a button-hole of my great coat ; "you jump off from the
side of the bay, and you'll tumble, true, into the stream under the arch. What you
liavc got to do, is to mind how you jump in ! There was poor Tom Steele from
Dublin. Didn't dive ! Bless you, didn't dive at all ! Fell down so flat into the
water, that he broke his breast-bone, and lived two days ! "

I asked Waterloo li' there were a favorite side of his bridge for this dreadful
purpose? lie reOcctcd, and thought yes, there was. He should say the Surrey
side.

Three decent looking men went through one day, soberly and quietly, and went
on abreast for about a dozen yards : when the middle one, he sung out, all of a
sudden, '* Here goes. Jack ! " and was over in a minute.

Body found ? Well. Waterloo didn't rightly recollect about that. They were
compositors, ihey were.

He considered it astonishing how quick people were ! Why, there was a cab
came up one Boxing-night, with a young woman in it, who looked, according to
Waterloo's opinion of her, a little the worse for liquor ; very handsome she was
too — very handsome. She stopped the cab at the gate, and said she'd pay the
cabman then, wdiich slie did, though there was a little hankering about the fare,
b':?cause at first she didn't seem quite to know where she wanted to be drove to.
However, she paid the man, and the toll too, and looking Waterloo in the face
(he thought she knew him, don't you see !) said, " Til finish it somehow ! " Well,
the cab went off, leaving Waterloo a little doubtful in his mind, and while it was
going on at full speed the young woman jumped out, never fell, hardly staggered,
ran along the bridge pavement a little way, passing several people, and jumped
over from the second opening. At the inquest it was giv' in evidence that she
had been quarrelling at the Hero of Waterloo, arul it was brought in jealousy.
(One of the results of Waterloo's experience was, that there was a deal of jealousy
about.)

" Do we ever get madmen ? " said Waterloo, in answer to an inquiry of mine.
" Well, we do get madmen. Yes, we have had one or two ; escaped from
'Sylums, I suppose. One hadn't a halfpenny ; and because I wouldn't let him
through, he went back a little way, stooped down, took a run, and butted at the
hatch like a ram. He smashed his hat rarely, but liis head didn't seem no
worse — in my opinion on account of his lieing wrong in it afore. Sometimes
people haven't got a halfpenny. If they are really tired and poor we give 'em one
and let 'em through. Other people will leave things — pocket-handkerchiefs
mostly. I have taken cravats and gloves, pocket-knives, tooth-picks, studs, shirt-
pins, rings (generally from young gents, early in the morning), but handkerchiefs
is the general thing."

"Regular customers?" said Waterloo. "Lord, yes! W'e have regular cus-
tomers. One, such a worn-out used-up old file as you can scarcely picter, comes
from the SuiTey side as regular as ten o'clock at night comes ; and goes over, /
think, to some flash house on the Middlesex side. He comes back, he does, as
reg'lar as the clock strikes three in the morning, and then can hardly drag one of
his old legs after the other. He always turns down the water-stairs, comes ap
again, and then goes on down the Waterloo Road. V\d always does the same
thing, and never varies a minute. Does it every night — even Sundays."

I asked Waterloo if he had given his mind to the possibility of this particular
customer going down the water-staire at three o'clock some morning, and never

traight forward,
seldom killed hy
they dash thcin-
Waterloo to me
mp ofr from the
arch. What yon
om Steele from
so flat into the

"or this dreadful
say the Surre\- I

^lictly, and went '
mgoiit, all of a

at. They were

here was a cab
. according to
idsome she was
i she'd pay the
about the fare,
to be drove to.
loo in the face
show!" Well,
id while it was
irdly staggered,
le, and jumped
idence that she
ht in jealousy,
leal of jealousy

quiry of mine.

escaped from

uldn't let him

1 butted at the
dn't seem no
• Sometimes
e give *em one
handkerchiefs
5, studs, shirt-
handkerchiefs

2 regular cus-

picter, comes

1 goes over, /

, he does, as

^ drag one of

re, comes up

loes the same

, »>

>.

Iiis particular
^ and never

Lif

think that of him, he replied. In fact, it was
his observation of that file, that he know'd a

coming up again? He didn't
Waterloo's opinion, fnindcd on
trick worth two of it.

" There's another queer old customer," said Waterloo, " comes over, as punctual
as the almanack, at eleven o'clock on the sixth of January, at eleven o'clock on
the fifth of April, at eleven o'clock on the sixth of July, at eleven o'clock on the
tenth of October. Drives a shaggy little, rough pony, in a sort of a rattle-trap
ann-chair sort of a thing. White hair he has, and wnito whiskers, and muflles
himself up with all manner of shawls. lie comes back again the same afternoon,
and we never see mon* of hiin for three months. lie is a captoin in the navy —
retired — wery old— wery odd — and served with Lord Nelson. He is particular
about drawing his pension at Somerset House afore the clock strikes twelve every
quarter. I have heerd say tnat he thinks it wouldn't be according to the Act of
Parliament, if he didn't draw it afore twelve."

Having related these anecdotes in a natural manner, which was the best war-
ranty in the world for their genuine nature, our friend Waterloo was sinking deep
into his shawl again, as having exhausted his communicative powers and taken in
enough east wind, when my other friend Pea in a moment brought him to the
surface by asking whether he had not been occasionally the subject of assault and
battery in the execution of his duty ? Waterloo recovering his spirits, instantly
dashed into a new branch of his subject. We learnt how " both these teeth " —
here he pointed to the places where two front teeth were not — were knocked out
by an ugly customer who one night made a dash at him (Waterloo) while his (the
ugly customer's) pal and coadjutor made a dash at the toll-taking apron where the
money-pockets were ; how Waterloo, letting the teeth go (to Blazes, he observed
indefinitely), grappled with the apron-seizer, permitting the ugly one to run away ;
and how he saved the bank, and captured his man, and consigned him to fine and
imprisonment. Also how, on another niglit, "a Cove" laid hold of Waterloo,
then presiding at the horse gate of his bridge, and threw him unceremoniously over
his knee, having first cut his head open with his whip. How Waterloo "got
right," and started after the Cove all down the Waterloo Road, through Stamford
Street, and round to the foot of Blackfriars Bridge, where the Cove "cut into" a
public-house. How Waterloo cut in too ; but how an aider and abettor of the
Cove's, 'vho happened to be taking a promiscuous drain at the bar, stopped
Waterloo ; and the Cove cut out again, ran across the road down Holland Street,
and where not, and into a beer-shop. How Waterloo breaking away from his
detainer was close upon the Cove's heels, attended by no end of people who,
seeing him running with the blood streaming down his face, thought something
worse was " up," and roared Fire ! and Murder ! on the hopeful chance of the
matter in hand being one ov both. How the Cove was ignominiously taken, in a
shed where he had run to hide, and how at the Police Court they at first wanted
to make a sessions job of it ; but eventually Waterloo was allowed to be " spoke
to," and the Cove made it square with Waterloo by paying his doctor's bill (W.
was laid up for a week) and giving him "Three, ten." Likewise we learnt
what we had faintly suspected before, that your sporting amateur on the Derby
day, albeit a captain, can be — " if he be," as Captain Bobadil observes, "so
generously minded " — anything but a man of honor and a gentleman ; not suffi-
ciently gratifying his nice sense of humor by the witty scattering of flour and
rotten eggs on obtuse civilians, but requiring the further excitement of " bilking

the toll," and "pitching into" Waterloo, and "cutting him about the head with
his whip;" finally being, when called upon to answer for the assault, what
Waterloo described as " Minus," or, as I humbly conceived it, not to be found.
Likewise did Waterloo inform us, in reply to my inquiries, admiringly and deferen-

«)'■■

k

I 'I

"»■

■\a^\KBl't.-r„.^:. ,„

I

ill"

268

J^own with the Tide.

tially preferred through my friend Pea, that tlie takings at th? Bridge had more
than doubled in amount, since the reduction of the toll one half. And boinjr
asked if the aforesaid takings included much had money, Waterloo responded,
with a look far deeper than the deepest part of the river, he should think not !—
and so retired into his shawl for the rest of the night.

Then did Pea and I once more embark in our four-oared galley, and glide swiftly
down the river with the tide. And while the shrewd East rasped and notched us,
as with jagged razors, did my friend Pea impart to me confidences of interest
relating to the Thames Police ; we betwcenwhilcs finding "duty boats" hanging
in dark corners under banks, like weeds — our own was a "supervision boat" —
and they, as they reported '*all right ! " flashing their hidden light on us, and we
flashing ours on them. These duty boats had one sitter in each : an Inspector :
and were rowed "Ran-dan," which— for the information of those who never gra-
duated, as I was once proud to do, under a fireman-waterman and winner of
Kean's Prize Wherry : who, in the course of his tuition, took hundreds of gallons
of rum and egg (at my expense) at the various houses of note above and below
bridge ; not by any means because he liked it, but to cure a weakness in his liver,
for which the faculty had particularly recommended it — may be explained as rowed
by three men, two pulling an oar each, and one a pair of sculls.

Thus, floating down our black highway, sullenly frowned upon by the knitted
brows of Blackfriars, Southwark, and London, each in his lowering turn, I was
shown by my friend Pea that there are, in the Thames Police Force, whose dis-
trict extends from Battersea to Barking Creek, ninety-eight men, eight duty boats,
and two supervision boats ; and that these go about so silently, and lie in wait in
such dark places, and so seem to be nowhere, and so may be anywhere, that they
have gradually become a police of prevention, keeping the river almost clear of
any great crimes, even while the increased vigilance on shore has made it much
harder than of yore to live by " thieving" in the streets. And as to the various
kinds of water thieves, said my friend Pea, there were the Tier-rangers, who
silently dropped alongside the tiers of shipping in the Pool, by night, and wlio,
going to the companion-head, listened for two snores — snore number one, the
skipper's ; snore number two, the mate's — mates and skippers always snoring great
gims, and being dead sure to be hard at it if they had turned in and were asleep.
Hearing the double fire, down went the Rangers into the skippers' cabins ; groped
for the skippers' inexpressibles, which it was the custom of those gentlemen to
shake off, watch, money, braces, boots, and all together, on the floor ; and there-
with macle off as silently as might be. Then there were the Lumpers, or labourers
employed to unload vessels. They wore loose canvas jackets w'ith a broad hem in
the bottom, turned inside, so as to form a large ciicular pocket in which they
could conceal, like clowns in pantomimes, packages of surprising sizes. A great
deal of property was stolen in this manner (Pea confided to me) from steamers ;
first, because steamers carry a larger number of small packages than other ships ;
next, because of the extreme rapidity with which they are obliged to be unladen
for their return voyages. The Lumpers dispose of their booty easily to marine
store dealers, and the only remedy to be suggested is that marine store shops
should be licensed, and thus brought under the eye of the police as rigidly as
public-houses. Lumpers also smuggle goods ashore for the crews of vessels. The
smuggling of tobacco is s considerable, that it is well worth the while of the
sellers of smuggled tobacco to use hydraulic presses, to squeeze a single pound
into a package small enough to be contained in an ordinary pocket. Next, said
my friend Pea, there were the Truckers — less thieves than smugglers, whose business
it was to land more considerable parcels of goods than the Lumpers could manage.
They sometimes sold articles of grocery and so forth, to the crews, in order to

jilons^ Sbore»

269

f^ndge had more
alf. And being
;rIoo responded,
lid think not !—

and glide swiftly
and notched us,
ences of interest
boats" hangiiur
rvisioii boat "—
It on us, and we
an Inspector:
who never gra-
and winner of
Ireds of gallons
)ove and below
less in his liver,
lained as rowed

1 by the knitted
i"g turn, I was
)rce, whose dis-
ight duty boats,
id lie in wait in
''here, that they
almost clear of
s made it mucli
s to the various
r-rangers, who
light, and wlio,
mber one, the
s snoring great
i were asleep.
:abins; groped
J gentlemen to
»■; and there- i
s, or labourers
broad hem in \
in which they i
izes. A great |
om steamers ; }
ti other ships ; j
o be imladen I
sily to marine |
- store shops I
as rigidly as ,'
t^essels. The |
while of the
single pound
Next, said
hose business
)uld manage.
, in order to

cloak their real calling, and get aboard without suspicion. Many of them had
boats of their own, and made money. Besides these, there were the Dredgermen,
wiio, under pretence of drodinng up coals and such like from the bottom of the
river, hung about barges and other undecked craft, and when they saw an oppor-
tunity, threw any property they could lay their hands on overboard : in order slyly
to dredge it up when the vessel was gone. Sometimes, they dexterously used
their dredges to whip away anything that might lie within reach. Some of them
were mighty neat at this, and the accomplishment was called dry dredging. Then,
there ^yas a vast deal of property, such as copper nails, sheathing, hardwood, &c.,
habitually brought away by shipwrights and other workmen from their employers'
yards, and disposed of to marine store dealers, many of whom escaped d tection
through hard swearing, and their extraordinary artful ways of accounting for the
possession of stolen property. Likewise, there were special-pleading practitioners,
for whom barges "drifted away of their own selves " — they having no hand in it,
except first cutting them loose, and afterwards plundering them — innocents, mean-
ing no harm, who had the misfortune to observe those foundlings wandering about
the Thames. ,

We were now going in and out, with little noise and great nicety, among tlie
tiers of shipping, whose many hulls, lying close together, rose out of the water
like black streets. Here ami there, a Scotch, an Irish, or a foreign steamer,
getting up her steam as the tide made, looked, with hei great chimney and high
sides, like a quiet factory among the common buildings. Now, the streets opened
into clearer spaces, now contracted into alleys ; but the tiers were so like houses,
in the dark, that I could almost have believed myself in the narrower bye-ways of
Venice. Everything was wonderfully still ; for, it wanted full three hours of flood,
and nothing seemed awake but a dog here and there.

So we took no Tier-rangers captive, nor any Lumpers, nor Truckers, nor Dred-
germen, nor other evil-disposed person or persons ; but went ashore at Wapping,
where the old Thames Police office is now a statiOii-IiCnse, and where the old
Court, with its cabin windows looking on the river, is a quaint charge room : with
nothing worse in it usui.ily than a stuffed cat in a glass case, and a portrait, plea-
sant to behold, of a rare old Thames Police officer, Mr. Superintendent Evans,
now succeeded by his son. We looked over the charge books, admirably kept,
and found the prevention so good that there were not five hundred entries (includ-
ing drun! en and disorderly) in a whole year. Then, we looked into the store-
room ; where there was an oakum smell, and a nautical seasoning of dreadnought
clothing, rope yarn, boat hooks, sculls and oars, spare stretchers, rudders, pistols,
cutlasses, and the like. Then, into the cell, aired high up in the wooden wall
through an opening like a kitchen plate-rack : wherein there was a drunken man,
not at ail warm, and veiy wishful to know if it were morning yet. Then, into a
better sort of watch and ward room, where there was a squadron of stone bottles
drawn up, ready to be filled with hot water and applied to any unfortunate creature
who might be brought in apparently drowned. Finally, we shook hands with our
worthy friend Pea, and ran all the way to Towev Hill, under Strong Pplice sus-
picion occasionally, before we got warm.

\

"ry'(stsiSB*iat^_

270

A JVaik in a Workhouse.

A WALK IN A WORKHOUSE.

On a certain Sunday, I formed one of the congregation assembled in the chapel
of a large metropolitan Workhouse. With the exception of the clergyman and
clerk, and a very few officials, there were none but paupers present. The children
sat in the galleries ; the women in the body of the chapel, and in one of the side
aisles ; the men in the remaining aisle. The service was decorously performed,
though the sermon might have been much better adapted to the comprehension
and to the circumstances of the hearers. The usual supplications were ofTered,
with more than the usual significancy in such a place, for the fatherless children
and widows, for :.ll sick persons and young children, for all that were desolate and
oppressed, for the comforting and helping of the weak-hearted, for the raising-up
of them that hr.d fallen ; for all that were in danger, necessity, and tribulation.
The prayers of the congregation were desired "for several persons in the various
wards dangerously ill ; " and others who were recovering returned their thanks to
Heaven.

Among this congregation, were some evil-looking young women, and beetle-
browed young men ; but not many — perhaps that kind of characters kept away.
Generally, the faces (those of the children excepted) were depressed and subdued,
and wanted colour. Aged people were there, in every variety. Mumbling, blear-
eyed, spectacled, stupid, deaf, lame ; vacantly winking in the gleairts of sun that
now and then crept in througli the open doors, from the paved yard ; shading their
listening ears, or blinking eyes, with their withered hands ; poring over their
books, leering at nothing, going to sleep, crouching and drooping in comers.
There were weird old women, all skeleton within, all bonnet and cloak without,
continually wiping their eyes with dirty dusters of pocket handkerchiefs; and there
were ugly old crones, both male and female, with a ghastly kind of contentment
upon them which was not at all comforting to see. Upon the whole, it was the
dragon. Pauperism, in a veiy weak and impotent condition ; toothless, fangless,
drawing his breath heavily enough, and hardly worth chaining up.

When the service was over, I walked with the humane and conscientious gentle-
man whose duty it was to take that walk, that Sunday morning, through the little
world of poverty enclosed within the workhouse walls. It was inhabited by a
population of some fifteen hundred or two thousand paupers, ranging from the
infant newly born or not yet come into the pauper world, to the old man dying on
his bed.

In a room opening from a squalid yard, where a number of listless women were
lounging to and fro, trying to get warm in the ineffectual sunshine of the tardy
May morning— in the "Itch Ward," not to compromise the truth — a woman such
as Hogarth has often drawn, was hurriedly getting on her gown before a dusty
fire. She was the nurse, or wardswoman, of that insalubrious department — her-
self a pauper — flabby, raw-boned, untidy — unpromising and coarse of aspect as
need be. But, on being spoken to about the patients whom she had in charge,
she turned round, with her shabby gown half on, half off, and fell a crying with all
her might. Not for show, not querulously, not in any mawkish sentiment, but in
the deep grief and affliction of her heart ; turning away her dishevelled head :
sobbing most bitterly, wringing her hands, and letting fall abundance of great

Inmates.

271

ed in the chapel

clerjjyman and

The children

n one of the siile

)usly performed,

comprehension

lis were offered,

thcrlcss children

tore desolate and

"or the raising-up

and tribulation.

»ns in the various

d their thanks to

nen, and beetle-
:ters kept away,
icd and subdued,
klumbling, blear-
eams of sun that
d ; shading their
oring over their
ping in comers,
d cloak without,
;hiefs; and there
I of contentment
*vhoIe, it was the
Dthless, fangless,

scientious gentle-
ihrough the little
i inhabited by a
mging from the
Id man dying on

ess women were
hine of the tardy
— a woman such
n before a dusty
epartment— her-
rse of aspect as
3 had in charge,
a crying with all
entiment, but in
shevelled head :
adance of great

tears, that choked her utterance. What was the matter with the nurse of the itch-
ward? Oh, "the dropped child" was dead ! Oh, the child that was found in
the street, and she had brought up ever since, had died an hour ago, and sec where
tlie little creature lay, beneath this cloth ! The dear, the pretty dear !

The dropped child seemed loo small and |)o()r a thing for Death to be in earne^t
with, Vui I^ealh hail taken it ; and already its diminutive form was neatly washed,
composed, and stretched as if in sleep upon a box, I thought I heard a voice from
Heaven saying, It shall be well for thee, () \\\w^(i of the itch-ward, when some less
gentle pauper docs ihosc odices to thy cold form, that such as the dropped child
are the angels who behold my l-atliei's face !

In another room. Mere seveial ugly old women crouching, \v itch-like, round a
hearth, and chattering and nodding, after the manner of the monkeys. "All well
here? And enough to eat?" A general chattering and chuckling; at last an
answer from a volunteer. *' OIi yes gentleman ! IMess you gentleman ! Lord
bless the Parish of St. So-and-So ! It feed the hungry, sir, and give drink to the
thusty, and it warm them which is cold, so it do, and good luck to the parish of
St. So-aitd-So, and tliankcc gentleman ! " Elsewhere, a party of pauper nurses
were at dinner, "How do you get on?" "Oh pretty well, sir! \Ve works
hard, and we lives hard— like the soilgers ! "

In another room, a kind (jf purgatory or place of transition, six or eight noisy
madwomen were gathered together, under the superintendence of one sane
attendant. Among them was a girl of two or three-and-twenty, very prettily
dressed, of most respectable ai)pearance, and good manners, who had been brought
in from the house where she had lived as domestic servant (having, I suppose, no
friends), v>n account of being subject to epileptic fits, and requiring to be removed
under the influence of a very bad one. She was by no means of the same stuff, or
the same breeding, or the same experience, or in the same state of mind, as those
by whom she was surrounded ; and she pathetically complained that the daily
association and the nightly noise made her worse, and was driving her mad — which
was perfectly evident. The case was noted for inc^uiry and redress, but she said
she had already been there for some weeks.

If this girl had stolen her mistress's watch, I do not hesitate to say she would
have been infinitely better off. We have come to this absurd, this dangerous, this
monstrous pass, that the dishonest felon is, in respect of cleanliness, order, diet,
and accommodation, better provided for, and taken care of, than the honest
pauper.

And this conveys no special imputation on the workhouse of the parish of St.
So-and-So, where, on the contrary, I saw many things to commend. It was very
agreeable, recollecting that most infamous and atrocious enormity committed at
Tooting — an enormity which, a hundred years hence, will still be vividly remem-
bered in the bye- ways of English life, and which has done more to engender a
gloomy discontent and suspicion among many thousands of the people than all the
Chartist leaders could have done in all their lives — to find the pauper children in
this workhouse looking robust and well, and apparently the objects of very great
care. In the Infant School — a large, light, airy room at the top of the building —
the little creatures, being at dinner, and eating their potatoes heartily, were not
cowed by the presence of strange visitors, but stretched out their small hands to be
shaken, with a very pleasant confidence. And it was comfortable to see two
mangey pauper rocking-horses rampant in a corner. In the girls' school, where the
dinner was also in progress, everything bore a cheerful and healthy aspect. The
meal was over, in the boys' school, by the time of our arrival there, and the room
was not yet quite re-arranged ; but the boys were roaming unrestrained about a
large and aiiy yard, as any other schoolboys might have done. Some of them had

■r

!]

272

A ]V(i/k in a Work/iousc.

been (Irawinj; large ships upon the schoolroom wall ; ami if they had a mast witli
shroiuls ami stays sot up Utt practice (as they have ii\ tlie Midillescx Hoi" ♦ ( f
Correction), it would he so much the heller. At present, if a hoy sliouUl a

strong impulse upon him to learn the art of g(Mng alofl, he could only gratify it, i
l^resume, as the men and women paupers gratify their aspirations after better bou I
and lodging, by smashing as many workhouse windows as possible, and bein;.j
l)romoted to prison.

In one place, the Newgate of the Workhouse, a company of boys and youths
were locked up in a yard alone ; their day-room being a kind of kciuiel where the
casual poor used formerly to be littered down at night. Divers of them had been
there some longtime. " Are they never going away ? '* was the n.itural in(iuiry.
*• Most of them are crippleil, in some form or other," said the WanUman, "and
not fit for anything." They slunk about, like dispirited wolves or hyxMias ; and
made a i)ounce at their food when it was served out, much as tlmse animals do.
The big-headed iiliot shulTling his feet along the pavement, in the sunlight outside,
■was a more agrcealjle object everyway.

Groves of babies in arms ; groves of mothers and other sick women in bed ;
groves of lunatics ; jungles of men in stone-paved down-stairs tlay-rooms, waitini,'
for their dinners ; longer and longer groves of old people, in upstairs Infirmary
wards, wearing out life, God knows how — this was the scenery tlnough which the
walk lay, for two hours. In some of these latter chambers, there were picture^
stuck against the wall, and a neat display of crockery and jK'wter on a Kind of
sideboard ; now and then it was a treat to sec a plant or two j in almost every
ward there was a cat.

In all of these Long Walks of aged and infirm, some old people were bedridden,
and had been for a long time •, some were sitting on their beds half-naked ; some
dying in their beds ; some out of bed, and sitting at a table near the fire. A
sullen or lethargic indiflerence to what was asked, a blunted sensibility to every-
thing but warmth and food, a moody absence of complaint as being of no use, a
dogged silence and resentfid desire to be left alone again, I thought were generally
apparent. On our walking into the midst of one of these dreary perspectives of
old men, nearly the following little dialogue took place, the nurse not being imme-
diately at hand :

"All well here?"

No answer. An old man in a Scotch cap sitting among otlu is on a form at the
table, eating out of a tin porringer, pushes back his cap a little .0 look at us, claps
it down on his foreliead again with the palm of his hand, and goes on eating.

" All well here ? " (repeated.)

No answer. Another old man sitting on his bed, paralytically peeling a boiled
potato, lifts his head and stares.

"Enough to eat?"

No answer. Another old man, in bed, turns himself and coughs.

*• How AxeyoH to-day ? " To the last old man.

That old man says nothing ; but another old man, a tall old man of very good
address, speaking with perfect correctness, comes forward from somewhere, and
volunteers an answer. The reply almost always proceeds from a volunteer, and
not from the person looked at or spoken to.

"We are very old, sir," in a mild, distinct voice. "We can't expect to be
well, most of us."

" Are you comfortable ?"

" I have no complaint to make, sir." With a half shake of his head, a half
shrug of his shoulders, and a kind of apologetic smile.

"Enough to eat?"

Iiad a mast with
Idlc'scx IIoi«' • , f
boy should ;,

«)iily gratify it, i
after bettor boanl
-.siljlc, and bcin;j

l><>ys and youths
l.iiiiu'l where the
f them had been

-• n.itural iiviuiry.

WanUman, " and
or hyxnas ; and
lose animals do.
sunlight outbide,

c women in bed ;
ay- rooms, waitiuj;
upstairs Infirmary
nouj;h which the
lere were picture >
vter on a kind of
in almost every

Ic were bedridden,
half-naked ; some
near the fire. A
ensibility to every-
)eing of no use, a
jht were generally
iry perspectives of
e not being immc-

s on a form at the
) look at us, claps
es on eating,

y peeling a boiled

4mong the Old Mm,

^11

man of veiy good
1 somewhere, and
1 a volunteer, and

an't expect to be

f his head, a half

'• Why, sir, I have but a poor appetite," with the same air as Ixrfore ; " and yet
I get througli my allowance very easily,"

'* Hut," showing a porringer with a Sunday <linner in ii " here is ". portion of
nuitton, and three potatoes. \o\\ can't stan'e on that ?**

** Oh dear no, sir," with the same apologetic air. ** Not starve."

'• What do you w.mt ?"

*' We have very little bre.id, sir. It's an exceedingly small quantity of bread."

The nurse, who is now lubbing her hands at the (juestioner's elbow, interferes
with, *• It ain't much raly, sir. Vou see they've only six ounces a day, and when
they've took their breakfast, there m;// oidy be a little left for night, sir."

Another old man, hitherto invisible, rises out of his bed-clothes, as out of a
grave, and looks on. ^

" Vou have tea at night'r" The questioner is still addressing the well-spoken
old man.

** Yes,, sir, we bave tea at night."

*• And you save what bread you can from the morning, to cat with it ? "

*' Yes, sir — if we can save any."

** And you want more to eat with it ?"

"Yes, sir." With a very anxious face.

The questioner, in tlie kindness of his heart, appears a little discomposed, and
changes the subject.

" What has become of the old man who used to lie in that bed in the corner ? "

The nurse don't remember what old man is referred to. There has been such a
many old men. The well-spoken old man is doubtful. The sjiectral old man who
has come to life in bed, says, "Billy Stevens." Another old man who has pre-
viously had his head in the lire-place, pipes out,

" Charley Walters."

Something like a feeble interest is awakened. I suppose Charley Walters had
conversation in him.

" He's dead," says the piping old man.

Another old man, with one eye screwed up, hastily displaces the piping old man,
and says :

"Yes ! Chailey Walters died in that bed, and — and — "

" Billy Stevens," persists the spectral old man.

" No, no ! and Johnny Rogers died in that bed, and — and — they're both on 'em
dead — and Sam'l Bowyer ; " this seems very extraordinary to him ; " he went out ! "

With this he subsides, and all the old men (having had quite enough of it) sub-
side, and the spectral old man goes into his grave again, and lakes the shade of
Billy Stevens with him.

As we turn to go out at the door, another previously invisible old man, a hoarse
old m ',n in a flannel gown, is standing there, as if he had just come up thrOugh the
floor.

" I beg your pardon, sir, could I take the liberty of saying a word?"

"Yes ; what is it V"

"I am greatly better in my health, sir; but what I want, to get tu quite
round," with his hand on his throat, "is a little fresh air, sir. It has alwa\ - done
my complaint so much good, sir. The regxdar leave for going out, comes round
so seldom, that if the gentlemen, next Friday, would give me leave to go out
walking, now and then— for only an hour or so, sir ! — "

Who could wonder, looking through those weaiy vistas of bed and infirmity,
that it should do him good to meet with some other scenes, and assure himself that
there was something else on earth ? Who could help wondering why the old men
lived on as they did ; what grasp they had on life ; what crumbs of interest or

T

IP

2 74

J 'f ilia: Hull, A J'uiry 'laic.

orciipjtlioM lliry coiiM picU tip from ils hnin bonnl ; wlu-llirr Clmrlry WiiMrrs lin'l
cvci ilcscniicd Id tlicin llic day; when he kept coiiipiitiy will) some ol'l p.niprr
womiui ill tlio 1)11(1, or Hilly Sti'vcns ever loM lluim ol llu- lime wlicii lit: \vn^, w
(Iwi'llei ill III)' liii ol) loicipii liiitil (iilled Home !

'i'lie morsel ol iMiiiit cliilil, lyin^; in imollier room. °io patienlly, in hed, wrapped
in liiil, and looKini; '.Irdla.lly al ns willi \\\'\ hiijdit (piirl eyes vvlieii we Hpol<e to
liim l<in<liy, looUed a. i( the lvnowle<l^r o( these thinj^^s, and ol all the Irndci
lhin);s Iheie aie to lliink alioiil, mi^di! have Ween in his mind as ii he th(Mi{dil,
with us, that llieie was a lellow-leehiif; in the panpei nuises whirh appeared ir.
make them more kind to their ( hai|;es than (he race ol common niirHL's in IIh'
lio-.pitidH as d he mus('<l upon the I'litine ol some older children lyin^; around
him in the same place, and lli(Mi|dit it hesl, |ierhaps, all thin(;s considered, that h*
should die i<". if !>e knew, wilhoul (eiir, ;)l those many coliins, made and inimade,
piled up HI the sl»,'r liclow and ol his unknown Irieiid, "the «lro|i|»ed child,"
calm upon the box lid (<;vcre(| villi a (loth. ihit there was sometliini;; wistful and
a|>pealinj;, too, in Ins tiny ku c, as if, in the niidsl ol all the hard necessities and
incongruities he pondered on, he pleaded, in liehall ol the helpless and the a;;e(|
poor, (or a little nuuc liberty- and a little more hread.

%-^V^%/V^>AA'^</ '^ .<*\#W^ t^ J #i^«^V4^v I t ^>«««^'^t\.<

rRINClC BULL. A I'AIRY TALK.

OncI', upon a time, and (»f course it was in (he (lolden Af;;c, rtii'l I hope you
niny know when (hal was, for I am sure I don't, thou|di I have (ried hard to find
()U(, (here lived in a rich an(| fertile ((uintiy, a powerhd I'rince whose namr; was
JJlM,!,. lie had |m)I1(; lhroii|di a j-rcal deal of fi^dilin^', in his lime, alxait all sorts
of (hinj^s, iiududiii}; nothinj,' ; but, had {Madually settled down lo he a stea'Iy,
j)eaceable, (U)od naluicd, coipuleiil, rather sleepy I'rince,

This I'uissant I'liiice was married (o a lovely I'riiicesH whose name was I'"aii
l''reedoni. She had biouidit him a laij.;e forlutur, and liarl borne him nn immense
number of children, and had si-t iIkmu lo spinniufj, nnd furminj^, and enp,itu'erinf,f,
and soldicriuj;, and sail'uinjr, and docloriiifj, and lawyeriii},', aiifl preachitif.';, and all
kinds of trades. The (offers of I'rince JUill were full of treasure, his cellars were
crammed with deliciou wines Iroin all parts of the world, the richest v,oV\ and
silver plate that ever was seen ad<)iue(| his sideboards, his sons were s(r<jn^, his
daughters were handsome, and in short you mijdit have supposed that if there ever
lived upt)M earth a lorlunale and happy rrinci* the name of that I'rince, take him
for all in all, was assuredly I'rince Mull.

Hut, appearances, as we all know, are not always (o be (riisle<l — far from it ; and
if (hey had led you to this conclusion lespecling riiiice liull, they would liavo led
you wronj; as tlu'v often have led me.

For, (his i;ood rrince had two sliar]) thorns in Ins ])illow, (wo hard l<nobs in liis
crown, two heavy loads on his mind, two \mbridled ni;dil marcs in his sleej), two
rocks ahead in his course. He could not by any means pel servants lo suit iiim,
and he had a lyianuical old j'jodniolher, whose name was Tape.

She was a I'aii y, this Tap(,\ and was a bri;dit red all over. She was dispjustinf'Jy
])rim and formal, and could n(>ver bend herself a hair's breadlh this way or (hal
way, out of her naturally crooked shape. T»u(, she was very ptjtcnl in her wicked
art. She could stop (he fastest thinf.j in the world, chan};e (he strongest thing into

rlry WflUcrn hn»l
f«(»mc «j|(| p.-Miprr
wluMi he wnvi ;i

ill bed, wrnppr-l
if'ii we H))()k«- I'l
I nil the lrii(|( I
il III* (li(;ii);|ii,
I'll .'ippcarcd ir.
>n iiiirsi-s In tlif
li lyiii|tf nroiiiKJ
sidcicd, Ihal Ik
l«; find iininadf,
liopprd diijd,"
liiij^ vvisKiil ,'ui'l
li(;(:csMlli(;<» ntid
•ss (iiid llir n;;cd

.F;.

niid f liopc you
licil |j;ird ((» find
•vliosc Uiimo was
', !il)()Ul all ^or(s
I" l)C' a steady,

name was Kaii
liin nu imincnsr
and rn/;inc<Min/.f,
r('atliinf.f, and all

Ills cellars were
•iciicst (;;f)lf| and
were sln^n/,', his
linf if IhcMc over
'rincc, take him

-far from if ; fin<l
would liavr led

ml l<noI).s in his
I Ills .slec|>, I wo
Us tf) suit him,

vas disgust inj^ly
lis way or tliat
it in her wi( kcd
iy:cst thing into

7hf>r,

■1^

I lie weakr«it, nnd the ffiosl useful into I Ik; mom usrlentj. To do fhh ^hc ha/I only
lo put her cold hand upon it, and repeal her own name, Tape. Then it withered
.iway.

At the Court f»f Prinec lUill -at ha'^t I don't mean literally at hi«j court, heenunc
he wa<; a very genteel rrinec, and leadily yielded to hi-; godmother when <ihr
always renrrvcd that for his h'rcdilary l,ord<» and La<lie« in the dominions f)f
I'rince Hull, among the great nia's of^llie ef»minunily who were eallerl in the lan-
guage of that jiolitc country the Mohs aii'l the .Snol»<., were a numl>cr of very
ujgenious men, whf) were alway. huny with Konie invcntif»n or other, for prome>ting
the prosperity of the l'rinee'<t suhjccl-i, and augmenting the I'rinee'M power, iJut,
whenever. they suhmillfd tlwir models for the I'liiic''; approval, his goflmother
stepped forward, laid her haiifl upon them, and -.aid "Taix, " Jlence it eamc to
pass, Ihal wh ri any particularly g(»od disc f<very wan made, the di»coverer U'>ually
tarried it^-off til home other I'rinc-, in foreign parts, wli'> had no f>ld go<lmothcr
w!io '.aid Tape. This was not on the whole an advantageous state of thinj;'-; for
I'rince I'ull, to the best of \\\y underslandiii;;.

The worst of il was, that I'riiiee I'ull h.id in course of y^sars Iap«;/:d into such a
state of siiltieclion to thi . unlucky g'odiiiolher, lliil he never made any serioiiH
effort lo rid himself of \n\ tyranny, I have said Ihi^ wan the worst of it, hut there
1 was wrong, because there is a worKC consefpiencc .still, behind. The I'rincc's
numerous family became so downright sit.k and tired of Tape, tliat when they
shoidd hav(.' helped the I'liiucout <>[ the ilifh' uliies intf> which that evil creature
led him, they fell into a dangerous habit of moodily keeping away fr(jm him in
an impassivt- and indifferent manner, as though they had (piile forgotten that no
harm could haj»pen to the Trinto their father, without its inevitably affecting
thernsclvcK,

Such was the asj)ecl of affairs at the court of Prince Ihill, when tinK great Prince
found it neces.saiy to gf» to war with Prince Hear. He had been for <*ome time
very doubtful of liis servant ,, whf), besides being indolent and arMicted to enriching
their families at his expen.se, domineered over liim dreadfully; threatening to di»-
chao'ge themselves if tlu-y were f(Hiri<l the least fault with, pretending that they had
done a wonderful amount of woik when they ha'l d(jiie nf»thing, making the rnf>»t
unmeaning speeches that ever were heard in the Prince's name, and uniformly
showing themselves to be very inefficient indeed. Thoii;di, that some (;f them had
excellent characters from i)revious situalif>ns i. not to be denied. Well; Prince
iJull called his servants together, and said lr> them one and all, " Senrl out my ari.iy
against Prince Hear, ("huhe it, arm il, U-x-A il, provide it with all necessaries and
contingencies, and I will pay the pi|>er ! l>o your duly by my brave troop'^," said
the Prince, " and do il well, and 1 will pour my treasure out like water, lo defray
the cost. Who ever heard MI", complain of money well laid f)ut !" Which indeed
he had reason for saying, inasmuch as he was well known to be a truly gencrou*
and munificent Prince,

When the servants heard tliose words, they sent out the army against Prince
Bear, and they set the army tailors to work, and the army provision merchant.'*,
aiifl the makers of guns both great nnd sm.dl, aiifl llic gunpowder makers, and the
makers of ball, shell, and shot; and tli'.y bemght iij) all manner of stores and ships,
without troubling iheii heads about the j)ricc, and ajjpcared to be &o busy that the
good I'rince rublx:d his hands, and (using a favourite expression (^f his), sairl, "It*:;,
all right ! " Hut, while they were thus employed, the Prince's godmother, who was
a great favourite with thijse servants, hooked in upon tliem contmually all day long,
and whenever she j/op[/etl in her head at the door said, "How do you <lo, mv
children ? What arc you doing here ?" ** Cjfficial business, godmother." "Oho!
Kiys this wicked Fgiry, " — Tape!" And then the business all went wrong.

J

276

Prince JSull. A Juiiry Tale.

:|t i;

! »

whatever •* was, and the servants' licads became so addled and muddled that they
thouj^lit they were doin^ wonders.

Now, this was very had conduct on tlic part of the vicious old nuisance, and slic
ought to have been i.trangled, even if she had stopped here ; but, she didn't slop
here, as you shall learn. For, a n'.inber of the Prnice's subjects, being very fond
of the Prince's army who were the Ijravcst of men, asscml>lcd together and providcfl
all manner of eatables and drinkables, and books to retid, and clothes to wear, and
tobacco to smoke, and candles to burn, and nailed them up in great packing-cases,
and put them aboard a great many shiixs, to be carried out to that brave army in
the cold and inclenn ' country where tliey were fighting Prince I'car. Then, up
comes this wicked Fairy as tlie ships were weighing anchor, and says, *' IIow do
you do, my children? What are you doing here?" — "We are going with all
these comforts to the army, godmother." — "Oho!" says she. "A pleasant
voyage, my darlings. — Tape 1 And from that time forth, those enchanted ships
went sailing, against wind and tide and rhyme and reason, round and round the
world, and whenever they touched at any port were ordered off immediately, and
could never deliver their cargoes anywhere.

This, again, was very bad conduct on the part of the vicious old nuisance, and
she ought to liave been strangled for it if she had done nothing worse ; but,
she did something worse still, as you shall learn. Tor, she got astride of an
official broomstick, and muttered as a spell these two sentences, " On Her
Majesty's service," and *' I have the honour to be, sir, your most obedient ser-
vant," and presently alighted in the cold and inclement country where the army of
Prince Bull were encamped to fight the army of Prince I'ear. ()x\. the seashore
ol that country, she found piled together, a number of houses for the army to live
in, and a quantity of j^rovisions for the army to live upon, and a quantity of
clothes for the army to wear : while, silting in the mud gazing at them, were a
group of officers as red to look at as the wicked old woman herself. So, she
said to one of them, "Who are you, my darling, and how do you do?" — "I am the
Quarter-master General's Dcjiartment, godmother, and I am pretty well." — Then
she said to another, "Who are jw/, my darling, and howdo^w/ do?" — " I am the
Commissariat Department, godmother, and /am pretty well." Then she said to
another, " Who are yoii^ my darling, and how iXo yoii do?" — " I am the Head of
the Medical Department, godmother, and I am pretty well." Then, she said to
some gentlemen scented with lavender, wlio kept themselves at a great distance
from the rest, "And who ^nxc you, my piftly jicts, and how doj<7«do?" And
they answered, " We-aw-are-the-aw-.Staff-aw- Department, godmother, and we arc
very well indeed." — " [ am delighted to see you all, my beauties," says this wicked
old Fairy, " — Tape ! " Upon that, the houses, clothes, and provisions, all moul-
dered away; and the soldiers who were sound, fell sick ; and the soldiers who were
sick, died miserably: and the noble army of Prince Bull perished.

When the dismal news of his great loss was carried to the Prince, he suspected
his godmother very much indeed ; but, he knew that his servants must have kept
company with the malicious bcklamc, and must have given way to her, and there-
fore he resolved to turn those servants out of their places. So, he called to him
a Roebuck who had the gift of sj)cech, and he said, "Good Roebuck, tell them
they must go." So, the good Roebuck delivered his message, so like a man that
you might have supposed him to be nothing but a man, and they were turned
out — but, not without warning, for that they had had a long time.

And now comes the most extraordinaiy part of the history of this Prince.
"When he had turned out those servants, of course he wanted others. What was
i;is astonishment to find that in all his dominions, which contained no less than
twenty-seven millions of people, there were not above five-and-twcnty servants

icUllcd that they

lisance, and she

she didn't stop

being very fon'I

lerand providcrl

ics to wear, and

t nacking-cascs,

t l)ravc army in

icar. Then, up

iays, "How do

going with all

"A pleasant

enchanted ships

and round the

nmcdiatcly, and

1 nuisance, and
)g worse; but,
t astride of an
CCS, " On ITcr
St obedient scr-
lere the army of
)n the seashore
he army to live

1 a quantity of
It them, were a
Tself. So, she
'?"— "lam the
y well."— Then
?"— "lam the
hen she said to
xm the Head of
en, she said to

great distance
w^do?" And
ler, and we arc
ays this wicked
ions, all moul-
dicrs who were

^ he suspected
nust have kept
her, and there-

2 called to him
>nck, tell them
like a man that
•y were turned

>f this Prince.
rs. What was
i no less than
A'cnty servants

Arrogance of the Prince i Serin nts.

277

altogether ! They were so lofty about it, too, that instead of discussing wheUsti
they should hire themselves as servants to I'rince Hull, they turned things topsy-turvy,
and considered whether as a favour they should hire I'rince I>u!l to 1<<- their master !
While they were arguing this point among themselves (|uile at their leisure, the
wicked old red I'airy was incessantly goiii uj) and down, knocking at the do<jrs of
twelve of the oldest of the fivc-and-tweniy, who were the oldest itjhabilants in all
that country, and whose united ages amounted to one thousand, saying, ^^\S'\\\ you
hire i'rince Jiull for your master? — Will yon hire I'rince Bull for your master?"
To which one answered, "1 will if next door will ; " and another, "I won't if
over the way does;" and another, "I can't if he, she, or they, might, could, would,
or should." And all this lime I'rince Hull's affairs were going to rack and ruin.

At last, I'rince Hull in the height of his perjilexity assumed a thoughtful face, as
if he were Struck by an entirely new idea. 'Mie wicked old I'airy, seeing this, was
at his elbf '.V directly, and said, " How do y(Mi do, my I'rince, and what are you
thinking of?" — " I am thinking, godmotlicr," says he, " that among all the seven-
and-twenty millions of my subjects who have never been in service, there are men
of intellect and business who have made me very famous bolli among my friends
anil enemies." — "Aye, truly?" says the Fairy. -"Aye, truly," says the I'rince. —
"And what then?" says the I'airy. — "Why, then," says he, "since the regular
old class of servants do so ill, are so hard to get, and carry it with so high a hand,
perhaps I might try to make good servants of some of these." The words had no
sooner passed his lips tiian she returned, chuckling, " V'ou think so, do you?
Indeed, my I'rince? — Tape ! " Tiicreupon he directly forgot what he was thinking
of, and cried out lamentably to the old servants, " O, do come and hire your poor
old master ! Pray do ! On any terms ! "

And this, {or the present, fmishes the story of I'rince ".ull, I wish I could wind
it up by saying that he lived ha|)py ever afterwards, bui I cannot in my conscience
do so ; for, with Tape at his elbow, and his estranged children fatally repelled by
her from coming near him, I do not, to tell you the plain truth, believe in the
possibility of sucli un end to it.

'.- ^^/■v^.^i^^

A PLATED ARTICLE.

— ♦ —

Putting up for the night in one of the chiefest towns of .Stafftn'dshire, I find it
to be by no means a lively town. In fact is as dull and dead a town as any one
could desire not to see. It seems as if its whole population might be imprisoned
in its Railway .Station. The Refreshment Room at that Station is a vortex of
dissipation compared with the extinct town-inn, the Dodo, in the dull High Street.

Why High Street? Why not rather Low Street, Flat Street, Low-Spirited
.Street, Used-up Street? Where are the people who belong to the High Street?
Can they all be dispersed over the face of the country, seeking the unfortunate
Strolling Manager who decamped from the mouldy little Theatre last week, in
the beginning of hi* season (as his play-bills testify), repentantly resolved to bring
him ])ack, and feed him, and be entertained ? Or, can they all be gathered to
their fathers in the two old churchyards near to tlie High Street — retirement into
v/hich churchyards appears to be a mere ceremony, there is so very little life out-
side their confines, and such small discernible difference between being buried alive
in the town, and buried dead in the town tombs ? Over the way, ojjposite to the

t!!!!l

?

^iJ

i

m

\i I

I ;

278 A Plated Article,

starin^r l^lnnk bow windows of the Dodo, are a little ironmonger's shop, a little
tailor's shop (with a picture of the Fashions in the small win<low and a banrly-
lepKCfl baby on the pavement staring at if) — a watchmaker's shop, where all the
clocks and watches must be stopped, f am sure, for they couhl never have the
courage to go, with the town in general, and the Dodo in particular, looking at
them. Shatlc of Miss I.inwoorl, erst of Leicester Srpiare, Lonrlon, thou art wel-
come here, and thy retreat is fitlv chosen ! I myself was one of the last visitors to
that awful storehouse of thy life s work, where an anchorite old man and woman
took my shilling with a solemn wonder, and conducting me to a gloomy sepulchre
of needlework dropping to pieces with dust and age and shrouded in twilight at
high noon, left me there, chilled, frightened, and alone. And now, in ghostly
letters on all the dead walls of this dead town, I read thy honored name, and fmd
that thy Last Supper, worked in I3crlin Wool, invites inspection as a powerful
excitement f

Where are the people wlio are bidden with so much cry to this feast of little
wool? Whe»"e are they? Who are they? They are not the bandy-legged baby
studying the fashions in the tailor's window, 'i'hcy are not the two earthy plough-
men lounging outside the saddler's shop, in the stiff sriuare where the Town llall
stands, like a brick and mortar private on para<le. They are not the landlady of
the Dodo in the empty bar, whose eye had trouble in it and no welcome, when I
asked ( r dinner. They are not the turnkeys of the Town Jail, looking out of the
gateway in their uniforms, as if they had locked up all the balance (as mv American
friends would say) of the inhabitants, and could now rest a little, 'i'hey are not
the two dusty millers in the white mill down by the river, where the great water-
wheel goes heavily round and round, like the monotonous days and nights in this
forgotten place. Tiicn who are they, for there is no one else ? No ; this depo-
nent maketh oath and saitli that there is no one else, save and except the waiter at
the Dodo, now laying tl)e cloth. T have paced the streets, and stared at the
houses, and am come back to the blank bow window of the Dodo ; and the town
clocks strike seven, and the reluctant echoes seem to cry, "Don t wake us !" and
the i)andy-legge(l baby has gone h(;mc to bed.

If the Dodo were only a gregarious bir<l— if he had only some confused idea of
makmg a comfortable nest — I could hoj)e to get through the hours between this
and bed-time, without being consumed by devouring melancholy. Hut, the Dodo's
hal)its are all wrong. It provides me with a trackless desert of sitting-room, with
a chair for every day in the year, a table for every month, and a waste of sideboard
where a lonely China vase pines in a corner for its mate long departed, and will
never make a matcii with the candlestick in the opposite corner if it live till Dooms-
day. The Dodo has nothing in the larder. Even now, I behold the Boots return-
ing with my sole in a piece of paper ; and with that portion of my dinner, the
Boots, perceiving me at the blank bow window, slaps his leg as he comes across
the road, pretending it is son>ething else. The Dodo excludes the outer air. When
I mount up to my bed-room, a smell of closeness and flue gets lazily up my nose
like sleepy snuff. The loose little bits of carpet writhe under my tread, and take
wormy shapes. I don't know the ridiculous man in the looking-glass, beyond
having met him once or twice in a dish-cover— and I can never shave him to-
morrow morning ! The Dodo is narrow-minded as to towels ; expects me to wash
on a freemason's apron without the trimming : when I asked for soap, gives me a
stony-hearted something white, with no more lather in it than the Elgm marbles.
The Dodo has seen better days, and possesses interminable stables at the back —
silent, grass-grown, broken-windowed, horseless.

This mournful bird can fry a sole, however, which is much. Can cook a steak,
too, which is more. 1 wonder where it gets its Sherry ? If I were to send my

71;e Plate discounts.

279

shop, a little

and n banfly-
where all the
ever have the
ar, looking at

thou art wel-
last visitors to
tn and woman
omy sepulchre

in twilight at
w, in ghostly
ame, and find
IS a powerful

feast of little

y-legged baby
earthy plough-
he Town Hall
le landlady of
come, when I
ing out of the
i my American

They are not
e great watcr-
1 nights in this
Jo ; this depo-
t the waiter at

Stared at the

and the town

'ake us ! " and

nfuscd idea of
s between this
ut, the Dodo's
ng-room, with
[e of sideboard
rtcd, and will
ve till Dooms-
! Boots return-
ly dinner, the
comes across
cr air. When
ly up my nose
ead, and take
glass, beyond
shave him to-
ts me to wash
p, gives me a
ilgm marbles,
it the back —

cook a steak,
re to send my

pint of wine to some famous chemist to hit analysed, what would it turn out fo bo
made of? It tastes of pepper, sugar, bitter-almond^ vinegar, warm knives, any
flat drinks, and a liiric brandy. Woidd it unman a Spanish exile l)y reminding
liim of liis native laud at all? I think not. If there really be any (ownspeople
out of the churehyanls, aufl if a caravan f»f them ever do dine, with a bottle of wmc
per man, in this desert of the Dc^do, it must make good for the doctor next day !

Where was the waiter born ? How dirl he come here? Has he any hope of
getting away from here? Docs he ever receive a letter, f)i take a ride upon the
railway, or sec anything but the Dodo ? I'crha[)s he has r.ecn the Ikriin Wool.
He appears to have a silent sorrow nn him, and it may be that. He clears the
table ; draws the dingy curtains of the great brnv winrlo-.v, which so unwillingly
consent to meet, that they must be pinned together ; leaves me by the fire with
my pint decanter, anri a little thin funnel-shaperl wine-glass, and a plate of pale
biscuits — in themselves cngcnflering flespcration.

No book, no newspaper ! I left the Arabian Nights in the railway carriage, and
have nothing to read Init I'radshavv, and " that way madness lies." Remembering
what jjrisoners and shipwrecked mariners have done to exercise their minds in
solitude, I repeat the multifdif ation table, the ])ence tal)le, and the shilling table :
which are all the tables I happen to know. What if I write something? The
Dodo kcei)S no pens but steel pens ; and those I always stick through the paper,
and can turn to no other account.

What am 1 to do? Mvcn if I could have the bandy-legged baby l:nockcd up
and brought here, I could offer him nothing but sherry, and that would be the
death of him. He woulfl never hold uj) his head again if he touched it. f can't
go to fjed, because I have conceived a mortal hatred vn my bed-room ; and I can't
go away, because there is no train for my place of destination until morning. To
burn the biscuits will be but a fleeting joy ; still it is a temporary relief, and here
they go on the fire ! Shall 1 break the jilate ? First let me look at the back, anfl
see who made it. Copkland.

Copeland I Stop a moment. Was it yesterday I visited Copeland's works, and
saw them making plates? In the confusion of travelling about, it migiit be yester-
day or it might be yesterday month ; but I think it was yesterday. I appeal to
the plate. The plate says, decidedly, yesterday. I find the plate, as I look at it,
growing intb a companion.

Don't you remember (says the plate) how you steamed away, yesterday morning,
in the bright sun and the east wind, along the valley fjf the sparkling Trent?
Don't you recollect how many kilns you flew past, looking like the bowls of
gigantic tobacco pipes, cut short off from the stem and turned upside flown ? And
the fires— and the smoke — and the roads made with bits of crockery, as if all the
plates and dishes in the civilised world had been Macadamised, expressly for the
laming of all the horses ? Of course I do I

And don't you remember (says the plate) how you alighted at Stoke — a pictur-
esque heap of houses, kilns, smoke, wharfs, canals, and river, lymg (as was most
appropriate) in a basin — and how, after clim])ing up the sides of the basin to look
at the prospect, you trundled down again at a walking-match pace, and straight
proceeded to my father's, Copeland's, where the whole of my family, high and
low, rich and poor, are turned out upon the world from our nursery and seminary,
covering some fourteen acres of ground? And don't you remember what we
spring from : — heaps of lumps of clay, partially prepared and cleaned in Devon-
snire and Dorsetshire, whence said clay principally comes— and hills of flint,
without which we should want our ringing sound, and should never l)e musical ?
And as to the flint, don't you recollect that it is first burnt in kilns, and is then
laid under the four iron feet of a demon slave, subject to violent stamping fits, who,

I

pi, ti

/ *

iKo

A riitUd Article

S nri'l wotild (rii';l»
? Ati'l as lr» III-

wlirn tliry cornr on, hfamrj'? nwny insnnely willi liis four Iron Ipg
all llic fliiiJ in llif Kir of lliiiiicl (o jK>w(lcr, willi(»iil l»Mvin^; oil
«liiy, <l(»n'l yon rc( «»ll»'( I liovv il is piil irilo inilh oi tra/»Ts, and Ih <ili(;e«l, and »iii^r^
and »:ilt at, l»y endless knives, elr»j/i'e(l and sli( ky, l»iil persisfont -<ir)d is pre'.s* d
<Mil of llial inacliine llit(Mi^;li a .M|'iare lfoii(;li, whose form il lakes — and is cut off m
S'|uaro hinijis an«l llirown info a val, and iIkm! mixed willi w.iler, and l»ealen to a
Mil|» l»y |ia<ldle-wli»'els — and is then nm inio a ron/di lionse, all rn(;tjed beams and
ad<lers s|ilasli('d willi wliile, — sn|iiTinlended Ky ( inndolf the Miller in lii-; working
ilothes, all sphslied willi wliile, —where il |i;is<,ei lliioii^Ii no end of machinery-
moved sieves all splashed with while, arranged in an ascending scale u{ fmcnet;';
(some so fine, that Ihree hundred silk threads cro>s eai li other m a single Sf^iiare
inch of their surface), an»l all in n violent stale of ajnie with their leetli for ever
(haltering, and (heir hodies for ever nhiveiiiif,' ? And as lo llie flint a(;airi, isn'c it
mashetl and nuillified and tronhled and soothed, exactly as ra^s are in a paper-mill,
until il i>; reduced to a |»ap so fine that it contains no alum of " jjrit " per( ejilihie
lo the nicest taste? And as lo the flint and Ihe < lay loj^eiher, ar(r lliey not, afler
all this, mixed in the nroiiorlion (»f five of (lay lo one of flint, and isn t tin; com-
|)onnd known as "slip' run inlooMonf' IrouLdi-;, where ils snperfhious moisture
may evaporate ; and hnally, isn't it slappeif and hanf^ed ;ind healcn and palled ap'l
knea<led and wedf^ed and knocked ahoul like hutter, until it iH.-coniCH n beautiful
grey doiijdi, ready fur Ihe poller's use?

Ill re(^ar<l f)f the poller, popularly so called (say. the plate), you don't mean lo
Kay you have foij^jidlen Ihal a workman calhtd a I hr<nver is the man under wli';se
hand this ^jrey «lou(^h lakes Ihe shapes <»f the sim|>I(;r hriuseliold vc;sels as quickly
as llic eye can follow ? You <lon'l mean to say you ( annot ( all him no before you,
Klllinjj, with his allendan; woman, at hi; poller's wheel a disc about Ihc si/c of a
dinner nialc, levolvinj^ on I wo drums sl(»wly or (juickly as he wills - who made you
n complete breakfast set for a bachelor, as a j;oodhuiTif>ured little <>ffdiand j'»KC ?
You remember how he Ictok up as muc h doiijdi a-i lie wanted, and, throwinij il on
his wheel, in a momeiil fashionerl it into a teacup cau|.;lit up mor<! clay and made
n saucer --a lar|;er dab and whirled it into a teapot -winked al a .smaller dab arnl
converlcd it into Ihe Ii<l of the tea|)ol, accurately fittir^j by the measurement of his
cvc nlonc — coaxed a middlc-si/ed dab for two sec(jnds, broke it, turned it ov(;r al
the rim, and made a milkpol Inuj^luvl, and turned out a slop basin -couched, and
]»rovided for the suj;ar? Neither, I think, are you f)blivious of the newer mode of
tnnkin^ various articles, but especially basins, a(( ordin/; lf» which improvement a
mould revolves instead of a disc? For you must remember (says the j*latc) how
you saw the mould of a little basin spinntn); round and round, and how the work-
man smoothed and pressed a handful of doufdi upon it, and how with an instrument
called a profile (a piece of wood, represent inj^ the prcjfile of a basin's foot) he
cleverly scrape<l and carved the rinj^ wliich makes the base of any such basin, and
then took the basin off the lathe like a dou^diey skull-cap lo be dried, and after-
wards (hi what is called a [;iecn stale) lo be put into a second lathe, there lo be
finished and burnished with a steel burnisher? And as to mouldiiifj in general
(says the plate), it can't be necessary for me lo remind you that all ornamental
articles, and indeed all arti(.les not (juite circular, are made In moulds. I''or you
must remember how you saw the vegetable dishes, for example, being ma<le in
mouMs ; and how the handles of teacups, and the spouts of teapots, and the feel
of tureens, anil so forth, are all made in little separate moulds, and are each stuck
on lo the body corporate, of which it is destined to form a part, with a stuff called
" slag," as (|uickly as you can recollect it. Further, you learnt — you know you
did — in the same visit, how the beautiful sculptures in the delicate new material
called i'arian, arc all constructed in moulds ; li()W, iutu thul uiaterial, animal bones

I'l wotihl f nmli
Ari'l as tf, fi,,.
Ikc'I, and wiff,
n'l'l i^i profwd
n'l is cut off in
11(1 l»tafon to a
:'vl lifiuris ari'l
in lii> wofkidj/
"f iiiaf.liiiicry-
•'il<: of finen«'«;s

siiij^lf Sf|iiar»!
I'clli for ever

«(:"'»» isn'. it
I .1 i-apfr-inill,

\h('.^ not, after

isn t tlir coni-

luoin nioistiirf-

"1(1 )»atlc(| an'l

c.H u bcaiififiij

'lon'l mean 1(»
n inidcr wli(;sc'
;s(;ls as qiiitkly
tif) lieforo you,
• I the h'l/.c of a
wlio made you
o/riiand j(»ko?
llirowinr' it on
elay nrKlmade
rinller dali and
iirement of his
rned it over at
-coughed, and
lewer mode of
nprovement a
ihc plate) how
low the work-
an instrument
isin's foot) he
ich hasin, and
cd, and aftcr-
L", there to he
ini ill general
II ornamental
(Is, i'or you
eing rna/le in
, and the feet
ire each stuck
1 a stuff called
ou know you
new material
animal bonca

72'/ P/a/e continues.

281

fire grotind uj», because the pl»o<iphafr of lirn^ eonfajn'-d In tionfs maVfi it frtnu-
luceril ; how everything is mouldc<l, bffore gomg into the fire, one-fourth larj^rr
flian it !<« intrnd'vj to ( orne f»ut r»f the hre, bccniiM! it shrinks in that proj.ortion in
the inlense heat ; how, when a figur'* shrinks imrr|tially, it is vpoih-d emerging.',
from the furnare a mis shapen birth ; a big Ikm'I and a litfh- l>o(|y, ox a little head
,'ifi(| a big l<(>(|y, or a <^ii;isim'K|o witfi l'»rig armn and sh'^rt legs, or a Mi-is iJiffin
v/ilh neither legs nor arms w(»rth mentioning.

Aii'l as to the Kilns, in which the hring takes pl.'iee, an'l in vvhi< h some of
the ni'<re pre( i'»us arfules are burnt rf-fx-atedly, in various stag's of th<-ir pro-
<esg towards completion, — as to the Kilns (says the pl^te, warming with the
recollection), if you don't rrrn'mber ftrKM with a horrible iritfrest, what rlid
you ever gr* \o (Jopeland's for? Wh'n you sto'cl inside (>f one '>f those
inverted bowls of a I're- Adamite tobarc o-pipe, lo(<l<ing up at the blue sky
through Ihe '»j»(ri t(»[> far off, as yf)U might have h*oked up from a wll, stink
under the rent re of the pavr-merit of tli'" J'ariflie'>n at f<orn'', had yoti the least
i(lea where y(»n were? Aii'l wli'n you found y/urself surrourKJed, in that dome-
shaped cavern, by innumerable e<;lumns r)f an unearthly orrler of architecture, sup-
porting nothing, ari'l s'|iiee/rd f l(»se t'/getlur as if a f'r''-Adamite Samson had
taken a vast Hail in his arms and crushed it into the smallest [)Os-,ibIe spate, had
you the least idea what they were? No (says the plate), of course not ! And
when y(Hi found that ea< h of those pillars was a pile of ingeniously made vessels of
coarse clay -called Saggers l')oking, when sejarafe, like raised pies for the table
of the mighty f iiant r»lufi(h-rborf, ari'l now all full <'f various articles of pr>ttery
ranged in them in baking ordfr, the lK>ttom of each vessel serving for the cover of
the one behr.v, aii'l the whole Kiln rapi'lly filling with thesi-, tier upon tier, until
the last workman slunild have barely room to crawl out, bef(<re the closing of the
jagged aperture in the wall and the kindling of the gradual fire ; did yoii not stand
amri/e'l to think that all flic year r'luiid these drearl chambers are heating, white
hot — an'l o'iling ari'l filling ■ an'l emptying- ari'l being brick<'l up — and broken
'>pen- humanly speaking, for ever an'l ever? 'f'o b'- sure yf;u di'l I An'l stan'ling
in one of those Kilns nearly full, and seeing a free crow sh(»'>t across the aperture
a-top, and learning h'<w the fire w'jiild wax h'»tteran'I h'ltter by slow 'I'^grees, and
W'>uld C(jr>l similarly through a space of from f'^rty f') sixty h'nirs, di'l x\o remcm-
})rance of the days when hinnan clay was burnt of)pre'vs y'*u ? Yes, I think »o !
F susjject that sfune fancy of a fiery haze anrl a shortening breath, an'l a growing
heat, and a gasj»irig prayer ; ari'l a figure in black interp'jsing betwe':n you anrl
the sky (as figures in bla( k arc; very a{)t tf) d'»), an'l l'K>king 'U>wn, before it grew
to'> hot t') lo'ik ari'l live, upon the iferetic in his edifying agony — I say I suspect
(says the plate) thnt '.'ime such fancy was pretty strong uf^jn y')U wlien y<>n went
'»ut into the air, and blessed God for the i^right s(»ring day and the flegenerate
times !

Afier that, T needn't remind yon what a reli'tf it was t'» see the simplest process
of (jrnamenting this " biscuit " (as it is calle'l wfien bake'l) with brown circles an'l
blue trees — converting it info the common crockery-ware that is exporte'l to
Africa, an'l use'l in cottages at h'>me. For (says the plate) I am well j)ersuaded
that you bear in mind hf»w th'>se particular jugs an'l mugs were once more set
upon a lathe and put in rn'^ti'jn ; an'l how a man blew the brown coI'>r (having a
strong natural affinity with the material in that con'lition) on them frf>m a blow-
pipe as they twirled ; and how his 'laughter, with a eornrn'^n brush, dropjicd
bl'>tches of blue upon them in the right places; an'l how, tilting the blcjtches
upsi'lc down, she made ihem run int'> rti'le images of trees, an'l there an end.

And di'ln't you sec (says flie plate) plantcl upon my own brother that astound-
ing blue willow, with knobbed and gnarled trunk, and fcjlinge of blue ostrich

:<>» VXi^*K4»am^mk...

282

A Plated Article,

feathers, which jjives our family the title of " willow pattern ? " And didn't you
observe, transferred upon him at the same time, that blue bridge which spans
nothing, growing out from the roots of the willow ; and the three blue Chinese
going over it into a blue temple, which has a fine crop of blue bushes sprouting
out of the roof; and a blue boat sailing above them, the mast of which is burgla-
riously sticking itself into the foundations of a blue villa, suspended sky-high,
surmounted by a lump of blue rock, sky-higher, and a couple of billing blue
birds, sky-highest — together with the rest of that amusing blue landscape,
which has, in deference to our revered ancestors of the Cerulean Empire, and
in defiance of every known law of perspective, adorned millions of our family
ever since the days of platters ? Didn't you inspect the copper-plate on which
my pattern was deeply engraved? Didn't you perceive an impression of it
taken in cobalt colour at a cylindrical press, upon a leaf of thin paper, streaming
from a plunge-bath of soap and water ? Wasn't the paper impression daintily
spread, by a light-fingered damsel (you kno-u you admired her!), over the surface
of the plate, and the back of the paper rubbed prodigiously hard — with a long
tight roll of flannel, tied up like a round of hung beef — without so much as ruffling
the paper, wet as it was? Then (says the plate), was not the paper washed away
with a sponge, and didn't there appear, set off upon the plate, t/iis identical piece
of Pre-Raphaelite blue distemper which you now behold ? Not to be denied !
I had seen all this — and more. I had iieen shown, at Copeland's, patterns of
bedutiful design, in faultless perspective, which are causing the ugly old willow to
wither out of public favour ; and which, being quite as cheap, insinuate good
wholesome natural art into the humblest households. When Mr. and Mrs. Sprat
have satisfied their material tastes by that equal division of fat and lean which has
made their /;/<;*>/rt(,v immortal ; and have, after the elegant tradition, "licked the
platter clean," they can— thanks to modem artists in clay — feast their intellectual
tastes upon excellent delineations of natural objects.

This reflection prompts me to transfer my attention from the blue plate to the
forlorn but cheerfully painted vase on the sideboard. And surely (says the plate)
you have not forgotten how the outlines of such groups of flowers as you se« there,
are printed, just as I was printed, and are afterwards shaded and filled in with
metallic colours by women and girls ? As to the aristocracy of our order, made
of the finer clay — porcelain peers and peeresses; — the slabs, and panels, and
table tops, and tazze ; the endless nobility and gentry of dessert, breakfast, and
tea services ; the gemmed perfurhe bottles, and scarlet and gold salvers ; you saw
that they were painted by artists, with metallic colours laid on with came' -hair
pencils, and afterwards burnt in.

And talking of burning in (says the plate), didn't you find that every subject, from
the willow-pattern to the landscape after Turner — having been framed upon clay or
porcelain biscuit — has to be glazed ? Of course, you saw the glaze — composed of
various vitreous materials — laid over every article ; and of course you witnessed
the close imprisonment of each piece in saggers upon the separate system rigidly
enforced by means of fine-pointed earthenware stilts placed between the articles to
prevent the slightest communication or contact. We had in my time — and I sup-
pose it is the same now — fourteen hours' firing to fix the glaze and to make it
*'run" all over us equally, so as to put a good shiny and unscratchable surface
upon us. Doubtless, you observed that one sort of glaze — called printing-body —
is burnt into the better sort of ware be/ore it is printed. Upon this you saw some
of the finest steel engravings transferred, to be fixed by an after glazing — didn't
you ? Why, of course you did !

Of course I did. I had seen and enjoyed everything that the plate recalled to
me, and had beheld with admiration how the rotatory motion which keeps this

And didn't you
Iffc which spans
irce blue Chinese
hushes sprouting
which is biTgla.
ended sky-high,

of billing blue
blue landscape,
;an Empire, and
IS of our family
r-plate on which
mprcssion of it
^aper, streaming
pression daintily
over the surface
ird— with a long
much as ruffling
er washed away
s identical piece
; to be denied !
nd's, patterns of
ly old willow to
insinuate good
and Mrs, Sprat
lean which has
in, ** licked the
heir intellectual

>lue plate to the
[says the plate)
s you se« there,
id filled in with
ur order, made
id panels, and
breakfast, and
Ivers ; you saw
nth camel-hair

y subject, from
jd upon clay or
—composed of
you witnessed
system rigidly
the articles to
le — and I sup-
id to make it
chable surface
rinting-body —
you saw some
lazing— didn't

ate recalled to
ch keeps this

ball of ours in its place in the great sclicmc, with all its busy mites upon it, wai
necessary throughout the process, and could only be dispensed with m the lire.
So, listening to the plate's reminders, and musing upon them, I got through the
evening after all, and went to bed. I made but one sleep of it — for wluch 1 have
no doubt I ixm also indebted to the plate— and left the lonely Dodo iu ihc morn-
nig, quite at peace with it, before the bandy-legged baby was up.

#«/^y\> i/v t« \j •./^^^/v w v'vw ^N/ <y k'

'■■y^^^Wv'K ». v\

OUR HONORABLE FRIEND.

We are delighted to find that he has got in ! Our honorable friend is trium-
phantly returned to serve in the next Parliament. He is the honorable member
fur Verbosity— the best represented place in England.

Our honorable friend has issued an address of congratulation to the Electors,
which is worthy of that noble constituency, and is a very pretty piece of compo-
sition. In electing him, he says, they have covered themselves with glory, and
England has been true to herself. (In his jirciiminary address he had remarked,
in a poetical quotation of great rarity, that nought could make us rue, if England
to herself did prove but true.)

Our honorable friend delivers a prediction, in the same document, that the
feeble minions of a faction will never hold up their heads any more ; and that the
finger of scorn will point at them in their dejected state, through countless ages of
time. Further, that the hireling tools that would destroy the sacred bulwarks of
our nationality are unworthy of the name of Englishman ; and that so long as the
sea shall roll around our ocean-girded isle, so long his motto shall be. No Surren-
der. Certain dogged persons of low principles and no intellect, have disputed
whether any body knows who the minions are, or what the faction is, or which
are the hireling tools and which the sacred bulwarks, or what it is that is never to
be surrendered, and if not, why not ? But, our honorable friend the member for
Verbosity knows all about it.

Our honorable friend has sat in several parliaments, and given bushels of votes.
He is a man of that profundity in the matter of vote-giving, that you never know
what he means. When he seems to be voting pure white, he may be in reality
voting jet black. When he says Yes, it is just as likely as not — or rather more so
— that he means No. This is the statesmanship of our honorable friend. It is
in this, that he differs from mere unparliamentary men. Vou may not know what
he meant then, or what he means now ; but, our honorable friend knows, and
did from the first know, both what he meant then, and what he means now ; and
when he said he didn't mean it then, he did in fact say, that he means it now.
And if you mean to say that you did not then, and do not now, know what he did
mean then, or does mean now, our honorable friend wi!l be glad to receive an
explicit declaration from you whether you arc prepare ^ to destroy the sacred
bulwarks of our nationality.

Our honorable friend, the member for Verbosity, has this great attribute, that
he always means something, and always means the same thing. When he came
down to that House and mournfully boasted in his place, as an individual member
of the assembled Commons of this great and happy country, that he could lay his
hand upon his heart, and solemnly declare that no consideration on earth should
induce him, at any time or under any circumstances, to go as far north as Berwick-

\

'*l

n

H4

Our Jlnnornhle /''ririnf.

iipfin'Twrrrl ; nnd whrn hr nrvcrfhrlr«m, nrxt ynr, di'l go to FJrrwick uixm
'I wrrfl, ,'ih'I fvrri l»ryori<l il, fo l'>linl>ur|;li ; hr IltI onr 'iifij'lr rnraninjj, firir ;inr|
ituliviHJMr. And fio'l f'»rM'l (our h'»r(oral»l«r ffim'l t.ay-;) lliaf li'r hIioiiM w;«sf»'
nrifjlluT nrf^jiimriil ii|»'»ri Ihr innn who profrtiHOii flinf If «;iririof iKiH'T-ifnfKl il t "I
<Im NO'I, (j''fill«mfn," '.ui'l <»i(r liorioraMi* fri'-fi'l, willi iriMijjD.nnt rrnpliaiii nnM
niniH (jrral < li»;rriri(j, on onr mitli iniMic o/;/;n«iion. " I flo NOT, ^rnll<;inf:n, I am
frrf lo fodf*','., rnvy llir frrlirif;-; of that itiari wli/ii;/' inrn'l i«; w* r.(<irififiifr'l an fliaf
lif (an lioM t,ii( Il V.xw^wnyy lo in'-, ari'l yot lay lii ■ li'a'l iij»or» lii-. j;illow, tlaiininj;
to he a native of (iiat lanri,

Wli'iv; rnnrrh i« oVr ihr mdttntain-wavc,
Wti'iv: home in on tin; dcfip !"

( V'licrncnl tliccrinj;, arifl man rx|>rllc'l.)

Wlifn our liotiofahh- fricti'l i.Mir'l In ; preliminary a^Mrrns to flic con^itltUTil
hofly of Vrri>o'.ily on flir (<(ra<,if;n of oii': oarti'iilar j;lorioii-i triiimidi, il w.i

t.il[)j)f»»if(| hy <>onM' of hi, vwvwwi

that

fv»:fi h'' Wf»ul'l !)': |ilar(y| ni a silualion o

»liffi( iilly l»y the following; < ornparativcly triflinj' conjiniftion of tirciim'.tanf.r ..
'I he flo/fn nohh-rnrn and yy\\\\v\\u\\ whom our lionorahlr frirri'l support fvl, ha'l
"(orrjr in," cxprr^sjy lo do a (rrlain Ihinj;, Now, four of ihc do/on «>aid, af ;•
rrrlain plarr, that th'y didn't moan to flo that Ihin^', and had never m'rant to do
il ; atifjili'T fonr of the do/f-n '.aid, at anolhrr certain plarv;, that th"y did mean to
do that lhin(j, and had alway . mrant tf» flo it ; tvvr» of llie remaining four '-iairl, ;it
twf» (»thrr rrrtain jilaces, that Ihey rnf-anl to <lo half of that Ihinj' (hut fliff.r'd

lern in .t'-ad of the oil

tier

ahont wliitli half), and to rio a variety of :;anirh:<,', woiu
hall ; and onr of thf! remaining tw(i d(;(;lared that the thing itself was dear] and
hiiiied, while th(! other a. .trfimoii'.ly protected that it wa<> alive and kicking. It
wan admitted that the parliamentary gf-niim f;f f»iir honorahle friend wonlrj Ixr
r|iiite al»l<! to reconcile Hudi small di u repancic; a'i th'xe ; hnt, there remained th'-
additir»nal flifficiilly that each of the twelve made entirely different statements at
<lifferent jilace-;, and that all the I'velvc tailed everything visihie and invisible,
saered and profane, to witnes'^, that they were a perfectly impregnable phalanx of
unanimity. TIiIh, it was apj>iehendcrl, w(juld he a sliimhling-Mock to our
honrirahle friend.

The difficulty came before f<nr honorable friend, in thi^ way. He went down
tf» Verbosity to meet his free and in<1ef»enfl(!nl const iluejits, and to render an
account (as he informed them in thr; local [)apfrs) of llie Ir'ist they had confided to
liis hands— that trust which it was one f>f the proudest j)rivileges of an f'lngli'nhman
to possess— that trust which it was the proudest privilege of an I'^iglishman to
hold. It may be mentioned as a proof u\ the great gf;nf;ral interest attaching lo
the cfintest, that a I/Unatic whr>m i)obo<Iy emplf)yefl or knew, went down fo
Verbosity witli several thousand pounds in gold, determined to give the whole
away whif.h he actually did ; and that all the publicans opened llieir houses for
nothing. lakewise, several hghting men, and a patriotic group rjf burglars
sp(jrtively armed with Iif<!preservers, proj;eefled (in barouches and ytxy drunk)
to the scene of acticjii at their own expense ; these chihlren of nature having
conceived a warm altafliment to our honfirable friend, and intending, in their
artless manner, to testify it by kn(;cking the voters in the o]>posilc interest on
the head.

Our honorable friend being eome into the presence <">f his constituents, and
having professed with great suavity that he was delighted to see his good friend
Tipkisson there, in his wf^rking dress — his good friend 'I'ipkisson being an in-
veterate saddler, who always opposes liim, and for whom he has a mort?! hatred
— made tlicm a brisk, ginger beery sort of speech, in which he .-.howcd them how

()yr Ihnourablt Friend txphini.

185

I' r .f.ifKl if J •< J
"' '"rriplinniH an'l
(/■r)»l<;rficn, I an,
'11 .fifiif/vl a-i (Ii,if
I'lllow, clauriiii;;

?

'ri'fmpli, if w,i
ill a 'sifualion ',f
f ' irj.iirfisJarK.'- „

^ll('I>';rfr'l, li.iM

'lo/on saiM, ;if ;•
^v<;r m'-arii to do
li'-y 'li'l rnfMn fo
li'i^; four «iaifl, ,-if
ii'i(' (bill fliff.T'yl
'•-'I'l of llir othrr
1/ vva-. fica/l arif)
iri'l kicking', [r
fricfifl woulfl l><:
irrr rcmainrfl tli'-
rit st.'ilcrnrntH af
Ic anfl invKiblc,
aJ»I(: phalanx of
i^j-Mock to our

ffc went flowt)
I'l fo xtuAtr all
lia'l vj,\\MvA fo

an Kn^li'nfirnari

Kn^'lishman U,
cr>l aftacliin^ lo

went flown fo
(iivc the wIjoIc
flicir fionsoH for
HP of burglar*;
1(1 very drunk)

nature havinj^'
Hflin^^ in their
site interct on

nstitucnts, and
lis fjood friend
fi bcinjj an in-
mortH hatred
wed them how

t[ic do/cn nolilemcn and ^fr.flrmm ha<l fin rxa/tly ten dayi from fheir eom.n^ in)
fxrrtii/Td a >iiirf»ri-tin(dy l»rn»'firial rffr(t on fhr whole finannal condition of F<uro[ie,

had alterr/I the Hfafr of the rxi>orf< an/| import* for the current half yar, h.vl

iTM made all that matter rich
raw material, and had restored all «><»rtH of halan«:r« with whi'.h the *iij»erv:ded

f*revented the firain of (;old, h^o made all that matter right ah^nil the jjfut of the

r)ol;|rrnen and (jrnflernen had ;»Iayfd the deuce — and all thi-i, with wheat af <o
much .1 '|iiarter, jjold a! vt rniiMi an ouncr, and the Hank of Mnfdand diwiz/unfinij
\</>iA hilh at w; much p.;r cenf, ! Il'- n.i^dit lie a-.kcd, he ohvrved in a ixrroration
of jjrcat |K>wer, what were hin principir* ? Hi* prmciple^ W':re whaf they always
had h»;eri. Mil principh-.* were written in tfie fountenance* «»f the lion and uni-
corn ; wrre itamped indcIiMy ujx»n the royal «,hield which thoie ('rarwl animaU
■.U[»|K>rffd, and upf;n the Urv. word«i /;f fire which that nhield )n»rt. IIh principle*
were, iJritannia and h^r sea-kinj; tridrnf ! Ili^ principle* werr, commercial pr^/H-
perify co-existenfly with perfect an/,1 profound ajjricultural c<»ntenlment ; fnjt »hort
of thin he woidd never %irt\i. Hi* principU;H wrre, thev,- wifh the addition of
fiii colore naihd fo flie masf, v'^r.T'^f rnan'-i heart in the ri^dit place, cscry man'-; eye
open, every rnan'^ hand ready, every man'* mind on the alert. Ill* principles
were thc*c, (Ymciirrfrntly wifh a (jeneral revi-iion of ^iomethin^ •^f»eakinjj generally
— and a f;<r-.>il;le readju-ifment of <iornethin(' elie, not to he mei, firmed more par-
fir;ularly. Mi* principle-*, to sum up all in a word were. Hearth* and Altari,
Lat»or and ('apital, Crown and Sceptre, f.lephant and (^aAtle. And now, if hi*
(;ood friend 'J ipki••l^'•>n re^pjired any further explanatimi ititm him he (our hr/nor-
ahle friend) was there, willinj; and ready to ^jive if,

'I ij^kisHon, who all fhi; time had HffKxl conspiciiotn in the crowd, wifh hi<» armA
folded and hi* eye* intently fa.lened <m inxx honorable friend : Tipki^v/n, who
fhrfiiifdioiit our honoralile friend's address had not relaxed a muscle of hi* vi*a^e,
luit had stoo<l there, wholly unaffecfed by the torrent of clfKjucncc ; an f^bject of
contempt and scorn to mankind (l»y which we mean, of course, to the supporter*
of our honf»rable friend) ; Tipki .;on now said that he was a i>lain man C.rie-* of
" V'ou are indeed I "), and that wfiat he wanted fo know was, what our honorable
friend and the dozen noblernen and (jcntlemen were driving at ?

Our honorable friend imrnediafely rej.lied, " At the illimitable [>eTH[)ectivc,"

It was considered by the whole assembly tfiat this happy statement of our hr/nw-
able friend's j)olifical views ou{dit, immediately, {<> have settled 'I'ipkisson's tmsinc^if
and cf^vercd him with cf>nfusion ; but, that implacable f)ers/*n, rejjarfllc'*^ of ^hc
execrations that were heajKrd ufion him from all sides (by which we mean, of courvr,
from our honorable friend's sifle), persisted in retaining an unmoved countenance,
and obstinately retorted that if our honorable friend meant that, he wished to know
what that meant ?

It was in re[>elliri^ this most objectionable and indeceiit opp</iition, that <■ <Jr
honoral^le friend di^[>laycd his highest qualifications for the rejjresentation of Ver-
bosity, His warmest supporter* present, anfl those who were r>est acquainted with
hi* generalship, suppo'.ed that ffie moment was come when he would fall l*ack u{K>n
the sacred bulwarks of (nir nationality. No such thinjj. He replied thus : "My
i!/xA friend 'I'ipkisson, ^jentlemen, wishes to know what I mean when he asik* mc
what we are drivint; at, and when I candidly tell hirn, at the illimitable persf)€:ctivc,
he wishes (if I understand him) to knov/ what I mean ?" '* I do I " says Tipkis*/>Ti,
amid cries of " .Shame" anri *' \)(>wn with him." '* f)cntlemen," says our honor-
able friend, ** I will indul;;je my gfxA fnend Tipkis.s/)n, by tellinjLj him, \yAh what
I mean anrl what I don't mean, (Cheers and cries of "Cive it him ! ") fie it
known to hirn then, and to all whom it may concern, that I do mean altars, hearths,
and homes, and that I don't mean mosques and Mohammedanism I" The effect
of this home-thrust was terrific. Tipki.i.son (who i.^ a Baptist) wa.s hooted down

lu

Our School,

\\

anfl hasttfd out, and has ever since been regarded as a Turkish Renejjarle wli^
contemplates an early oil^rimapje to Mecca. Nor wan he the only discomfiicl
man. The charf^c, while it stuck to him, was magically transferred to our honor-
able friend's opponent, who was rcprc*scntcd in an immense variety of placards as
a firm believer in Mahomet ; and the men of Verbosity were asked to cho<)S/
lietwc'-n our honornbh: frii-nd and the Hible, and our honorable friend's opponent
and the Koran. 'J hey decided for our honorable friend, and rallied rounfl the
illimital)lc perspective.

It has })ccn claimed for our honorable friend, with much apjxiarancc of reason,
that he was the first to bend sacred matters to electioneering' tactics. However
this m.iy >)C, the hue precedent was undoubtedly set in a VerlKjsity election : and
it is certain that our honorable friend (who was a di«-ciple of Brahma in his youth,
and was a Hudflhist when we had the honor of travelling with him a few years agf», )
always professes in public more anxiety than the whole iJench of Hishops, rcgarrj-
ing the theological and doxological opinions of every man, woman, and child, in
the United Kingdom.

As we began by .saying that our honorable friend has got in again at this last
election, and that we are delighted to find that he has got in, ro we will conclude.
()ur honorable fricnrl cannot come in for Verbosity too r)ften. It is a good sign ;
it is a great example. It is to men like our honorable friend, and to contests like
th*;se from which he comes triumphant, that we are mainly indebted for that ready
interest in politics, that fresh enthusiasm in the discharge of the rluties of citizcn-
sliij), tiiat ardent desire to rush to tlu; poll, at present so manifest tliroughout
Kngland, When the contest lies (as it sometimes does) between two such men as
our honorable friend, it stimulates the finest emotions of our nature, and awakens
the highest admiration of which our heads anrl hearts are capable.

It is not tr>o much to pre 'ict that our honorable friend will be always at his post
in the ensuing session. Whatever the f|UcstioM be, or whatever the form of it ,
dis«ussion; address to the crown, election petition, expenditure of the public
money, extension of tlic public siiffrngf, education, crime ; in the whole house, in
committee of the whole house, in select committee ; in every parliamentary discus-
sion of every subject, everywhere : the Honorable Member for Verbosity will moit
certainly be found.

;a

OUR SCHOOL.
— « —

We went to look at it, only tliis last Midsummer, and found thnt the Railway
harl cut it up root and branch. A great trunk-line had swallowed the [)Iayground,
.sliced away tiic .scho(>lro(jm, and pared fjff the corner of the lK>iise : which, thus
curtailed of its proportions, presented itself, in a green stage of stucco, profilewise
towards the road, like a forhmi flat-iron without a handle, standing on end.

It seems as if our schools were doomed to be tlie sport of change. We have
faint recollections of a I'reparatory Day-School, which we have sought in vain,
and which must have been pulled down to make a new street, <igcs ago. We have
dim impressions, scarcely nmounting to a belief, that it was over a dyer's shop.
We know that you went up stej>s to it ; that you rref|uently grazed your knees in
doing so ; tiiat you generally got your leg over the scraper, in trying to scrape the
mufl off a very unsteady little s'loe. The mistress of the Kstablishmcnt hoKIs no
place in our memory; but, rampant on one eternal door-mat, in an eternal entry

H'e were First Boy,

287

li Rcnrgarle wlio
only (listomfnc'l
rc'l to our honor-
«y of f)Iacarrls a,
askcfl to chor,,*
riciur.s oppofutii
rallied rounrl th'

arancc of reason,
ictit^. Ilowcvrr
ity election : anfj
ima in his youth,
a few years a^a, )
iJishops, rejjarfi-
an, ami child, in

igain at this last
ve will conclude,
t is a go<id si^n ;
I to contests like
<-'d for that ready
duties of citizcn-
lifest throii(/hout
two sue!) men a ,
ire, and awakens

lu-ays at his post
■ the form of it ,
'c of the public
whole house, in
amentary discus-
rbosity will most

hnt the Railway
the f)layj','round,
so : which, thus
icco, profilewisc
,' on end.
ngc. We have
sought in vain,
afjo. We have
a dyer's shop.
1 your knees in
ig to scrape the
hmcnt holds no
m eternal entry

towards ui, who
rarliatini; way he

1

long and narrow, is a puffy pug dopj, with a |)crional animosity
trium|)hi> over 'lime. The hark of that l»altful Pug, a certain ,^ .

had of snapping at our undcfrnflcd legs, the ghastly grinning of his moist black
muzzle and white l'"th, and the insfjjcnce of his trisp tail curlc<l lik*: a pastoral
crotik, all live and flourish. From an otherwise unaccountable association of him
with a fiddle, we conclude that he was of F'r<.nch cxtracron, and his name hidl^tf.
He lx:longed to some female, chiefly inhabiting a lack-parlor, whose life appears
to us to have been consumed in sniffing, and in wearing a brown Ixravcr l>onnet.
For her, he would sit up and balance cake upon his nose, and not cat it until
twenty had been counted. To the best of our belief we were once called in to
witness this i»erforinance ; whf.i), unable, even in his milder moments, to endure
our presence, he instantly mad-.- at u>, calte anrl all.

Why a something in mourning, called "Miss Frost," shouM sfill connect itself
with our jfreparatory scliord, wc are unable to say. We retain no impression of
the beauty of Miss Frost — if she were beautiful ; ox of the mental fascinations of
Miss Frost— if she were accompli'-hed ; yet her name and her black dress hold an
enduring plate in our remembrance. An cMiially impersonal boy, whose name has
|f;ng since shaped itself unalterably info " Ma-.fer Mawls," is not to be dislodged
from our brain. Rifaining no vindictive feeling towards Mawls — no feeling what-
ever, indeed — we infer that neither he nor wc can have loved Miss Frost. Our
first impression of Death and Burial 1, .1 ociated with this formless pair. We all
three nestled awfully in a comer one wintry day, when the wind was blowing shrill,
with Miss Frost's pinafore over our heads ; and Miss Frost told us in a whisper
about .somebody being "screwed down." It is the only distinct recollection we
preserve of thee impalpable creatures, except a suspicion that the manners of
Master Mawls were susceptible of much improvement, fiencrally s|)eaking, we
may ol)servc th.it whenever wc .sec a child intently occupied with its nose, to the
exclusion of all other subjects of interest, our mind reverts, in a flash, to Master
Mawls.

But, the School that v/as Our School before the Railroad came and oveithrew it,
was quite another sort u{ place. We were oM enough to be put into Virgil when
wc went there, and to j^et I'ri/es for a variety of polishing on wiiich tlie rust has
long accumulated. It was a School of .some celebrity in its neighbourhood — no-
body could have said why —and we had the honor to attain and hoM the eminent
position of first boy. The master wa^ sufjposed among us to know nothing, and
one of the ushers was supposed to know everything. Wc arc still inclined to
think the first-named supposition perfectly correct.

We have a general idea that its subject harl been in the leather trade, and had
bought us — meaning Our School— of another proprietor who was immensely
learned. Whether this belief had any real founrlotion, we arc not likely ever to
know now. The only branches of education with which he showed the le.ast
acquaintance, were, ruling and corporally punishing. lie was always ruling ciphcr-
ing-books with a bloated mahogany ni!cr, or smiting the palms of offenrlers with
the same diabolical instrument, or viciously drawing a pair of pantaloons tight with
one of his large hands, and caning tlie wearer with the other. Wc have no doubt
whatever that this occupation was the principal solace of his existence.

A profound respect for money pervarled Our School, which was, of course,
derived from its Chief. We rememfjcr an idiotic goggle-eyed boy, with a big head
and half-crowns without end, who suddenly appeared as a parlor-boarder, and was
rumoured to have come by sea from sf)me mysterious part of the earth where his
parents rollcfl in gold. He was usually called " Mr." by the Chief, and was said
to feed in the parlor on steaks and gravy ; likewise to drink currant wine. And
he openly stated that if rolls and coffee were ever denied him at breakfast, he would

Ri

1 yi.'

i :

t ■ t'

288

Our School.

write home to that unknown part of the glol>c from which lie harl come, and cau-,L-
himself to l;e recallcfl to the rf-gions of gohl. He was put into no form or class,
hut learnt ahmc, as little as he liked — and lie likerl very little— and there was a
helief among us that this was because he was too wealthy to he " taken down."
His sj)ecial treatment, and our vaj'ue association of him with the sea, and with
storms, and sharks, anrl Coral Reefs occasioned the wildest legends to be circu-
lated as his history. A tragedy in blank verse was written on the subject — if our
memory does not deceive us, by the hand that now chronicles lliese recollections -
in which his father figured as I'irate, and was shot for a voluminous catalogue of
atrocities : first imjiarling to his wife the .secret of the cave in which his wealth was
stored, anrl from which his only son's half-crowns now issued, Dumbledf>n (the
boy's name) was represented ns "yet unborn" when his brave father met his fate;
and the flesr>air and grief of .Mrs. I^innbledon at that calamity was movingly slia-
dowed forth as having weakened the parlor-boarder's min'l. This production
was received with great favor, and was twice perfonned with closed doors in the
dining-roorn. Hut, it got wind, and was seized as liln-llous, and brought the un-
lucky poet into severe affliction. Some two years afterwards, all of a sudden one
day, Dumbledon vanished. It was whisperer! that the Chief himself had taken him
down to the I)ocks, and re-shipped him for the Spanish .Main ; but nothing certain
was ever known about his disappearance. At this hour, we cannot thoroughly
disconnect hirn from California.

Our Jichool was rather famous for mysterious pupils. There wa<> a.iother— a
heavy young man, with a large double-cased silver watch, and a fat knife the
handle of which was a j>crfect tool-box — who unaccountably appeared one day at
a sj)ecial desk of his own, erected close to that of the Chief, with whom he held
familiar converse. He lived in the parh^r, and went out for his walks, and never
took the least notice of us — even of us, th^ first boy — unlt.-ss to give us a depre-
catory kick, or grimly to take our hat off and throw it away, when he encountered
u.s out of doors, which unpleasant ceremony he always [)erformed as he passed —
not even condescending to stop fur the j)Uri>ose. Some of us believed that the
classical attainments of this {dienomenon were terrific, but that his penmanship
and arithmetic were defective, and he harl come there to mend them ; others, that
he was going to set uj) a school, and had paid the (Jhief "twenty-five pound
down," for leave to see Our School at work, 'i'he gloomier sf>irits even saifl that
he was going to buy i;s ; against which contingency, conspiracies were set on foot
for a general detection and running away. However, he never rlid that. After
staying for a quarter, during which period, though closely observed, he was never
seen t(j do anything but make pens out of quills, write small harul in a secret port-
folio, and [)unch the ]v>int of the sharpest blarle in his knife into his desk all over it,
he too disapj)eared, and his place knew him no more.

There was another boy, a fair, meek boy, with a delicate complexion and rich
curling hair, who, we found out, or thought we found out (we have no idea now,
and jjrobably had none then, on what grounds, but it was confidentially revealed
from mouth to mouth), was the son of a Viscount who had ficsertefl his lovely
mother. It was understood that if he had his rights, he would be worth twenty
thousand a year. And that if his mother ever met his father, .she would shoot him
with a silver pistol, which she carried, always loaded to the mu/zle, for that pur-
pose. He rvas a very suggestive topic. So was a young Mulatto, who was always
believed (thougli very amiable) to have a dagger about him somcv. Iiere, I'ut, we
think they were both outshone, upon the whole, by another boy who claimed to
havdjeen born on llie twenty-ninth of Febniary, and to have only one Ijirthday
in five years. We suspect this to have been a fiction — but he lived upon it all the
time he was at Our School.

The popular Usher.

289

'.ome, and cause
■> form or class
■inrl there was a
"taken flown."
u: sea, and with
nrls to be circii-
; suhjcct— if our
('. recollections —
us catalogiie of
h liis wealth was
FJurnblerlon (the
ler met his fate;
IS movingly sha-
'J'his production
cA fifjors in the
brought the un-
>f a sudden one
If had taken him
; nothing certain
nnot thoroughly

was a.iother— a

a fat knife the
ared one day at
I whom he held
alks, and never
ive us a deprc-

he encountered
as lie passed —
rlicved that the
his penmanship
n ; others, that
^nty-five pound

even saifl that
kvere set on fof^t
id that. After
1, he was never
in a secret port-
desk all over if,

lexion and rich I
: no idea now, i
ntially rcvealerl
rterl his lovely
: worth twenty
ouM shoot him
:, for that pur-
dio wa , always
'lere. IJul, we
vho claimed to !
y one birthday |
upon it all the

'I'hc ])rincipal currency of ()\\t Schrjol was slate pencil. It had some incxpli-
f.able vahi(;, tliat was never ascertained, never rerluced to a standarfl. To have a
t;reat luiard of it, was somelK^w to be rich. We \\'m:<\i\(> bestow it in charity, and
c(jrifer it as a precious ];oon upon our chosen friends. When the hf;Iidays were
(orning, contributions were solicited for certain boy-> who e relatives wcn, in India,
■.'.\)(\ who were a{>pealed for under the generic name of " Holiday-stoppers," — ap-
prfjpriate marks r)f renieinl^rance that should enliven and cheer them in their
homeless '.tate. I'er.onaliy, we always contributed tlic-.e tokens of syrn})athy in
the form of slate-pencil, and always fell that it would be a comfort and a treasure
t(i them.

Our .School was rernark.'ible for wliitc- mice. ]'ed-p'^jll%, linnets, and even
canaries, were kept in de.ks, drawer-,, hat-boxe^, an'l other strange refuges for
birds ; but white mice were the favourite stock. 'i he boys tr.Tined the mice,
much better than the masfeis trained the boys. We recall one white mouse, who
lived in tlie cover rjf '; Latin dictionary, v.ho ran up ladders, drew Kf^mari chari(;ts,
hruildered muskets, turned wheel 1, and c\cn made a very credifalJe aj)pearancf
on the stage as the Dog ui Montargi^, lb; might have achieved greater things,
init for having the miJoitiie to mi , take hi^ way in a triumphal procession tf> the
Caj^itol, when he fell into a decrji inkstand, and was dyerl black and drowned.
The mice were the (^ccasirm f;f orne m\i>A ingenious engineering, in the construc-
tion of their houses and instrument , ^A j)erforniancf. The famou , one belonged
t'» a company of jiroprielors, some of whom have since made Railroads, I'.n-
gines, and Telegraphs; the chairman has erected niill-> and bridf^es in New
Ze.'dand.

'i'he usher at C)ur School, whc) was consi'lered to knov. everything as ofjposcrl to
the Chief, who was considered to knfjv/ nothing, was a bony, gentle-faced, clerical-
looking young man in rusty black. It was whi->percd that he was sweet upon one
f'f Maxby's si->ters (Maxby lived close by, and was a day pupil), anrl further that he
" favoured Maxby." y\s we renicmber, he taught Italian to .Maxby's sisters on
half-holidays. He once went to the play with thjm, and wore a white waistcoat
and a ruse : which was considered amcnig us efplivaleiit to a declaration. We
were f>f fjpinif>n on thnt occasion, that to the last moment he expected Maxby' .s
father to ask him tf; dinner at five o'clock, and thercft^re neglected his own dinner
at half-past one, and fmally got none. We exaggerated in our imaginations the
extent to which he punished .\Taxby's father's cold meat at su[»per ; and we agreed
to belif.'ve that he was elevated with wine arifl water when he came home, liut, we
all liked him ; for he had a goofl knowledge of bf>ys, and wf»uld have made it a
much better school if he had had more power. He was writing master, mathema-
tical master, luiglidi master, made out the bills, mendefl the [.ens, and did all sort.',
of things. He divifled the little boys with the Latin master (they were smuggled
through their rufiimentary books, at odd times when there wa.s nothing else to do),
and he always called at parenti' houses to inquire after si<.k l;oy->, l>ecause he harl
gentlemanly n>anriers. He was rather musical, and on some remote quarter-day
had bought nn old trrmd^one ; but a bit of it was lost, and it mode the most extra-
ordinary sounds when he sometimes tried to |<lay it of an evening. Ifis holirlays
never began (on account of the bill-,) until lorsg after ours ; but, in the summer
vacations he uscfl to take jjcdestrian excursions with a knapsack ; and at Christmas
time, he went to sec his father at Chipping Nortc^n, who we all said (on no
authority) was a dairy-fed-pork-butcher. I'oor fellow ! He was very lf)W all day
on Maxby's sister's wefhling-day, and afterwards was thought to favour Maxbymore
than ever, though he had been ex|)ccted to spite hirn. He has been dead Uiese
twenty years, i'of^r fellow !

Our remembrance <>f Our School, presents chc Latin master a.s a colorless

r

n

TSSSSni^Sm^^SSSSSSSSm^m!^ '-^

I

-I

1^'

(louMcd-iip ncnr-sij^,'liff(l man with a cnitcb, who was always cf^hl, and alw.-iy
piiftiiif^ onions into liis cars for deafness, and always disclosinj^ end . of flatincl under
all liis (jarincnls, and ainujsl always ajiplyinj.^ a hall of iiockcfdiiuidkcrchicf to some
p.'irt of his face with a scicwinj.^ action round mid round. lie was a. very f^of^cl
scholar, tuid tooI< jocat ]);nn . where he saw intelligence and a clcsir<' to learn :
otherwise, |)erha|):; nol. ( )ur memory nrcscnts hitn (unless teased into a jiassion)
with as litde eneijjy a:; color - .'i. Ii;ivin^ oeen worried ruid tormented into nionoto-
nf)us feel denes. -a.; h.'ivinf; lia<l the hesi part of his life joonnd out of him in a -Mill
o( hoys. We reniernher with terror how he fell aslee|) one sultry afternoon with
the litll(! snni};tded class hefore him, und awoke not when the footstep of the Chief
fell heavy on the floor ; how the (ihief aroused him, in the midst of a dread silence,
and said, "Mr. Illinkins, nre you ill, sir?" how he l(hrd)in|.dy replied, "Sir,
rather so ;" how the Chief retorted with severity, " Mr. Iilinkins, this is nf) place
ff» he ill in" (which w.'c; very, very true), and w.'dkeil hack solenm ;is tlu- ^diost in
llaiuiet, until, c.'ilchiufj a wandering; eyt,-, li<: caned that hoy for inattention, and
happily expressed his feeliuf^s towards the Latin master throufjh the medium of a
substitute,

'I'here was a fit little dancins^-master who used to conur in a f;i(^, and tau}.dit the
more advnuced amonjj us hornpipes (as an accomplishment in };reat social dem.'ind
in after life) ; and there was a l)iid< little I'rench master who used to come in the
sunniest wenther, with ;\ hnndleless lunhrella, and to whom the ( 'hicf was always
))olite, because (as we believed), if tli(! Chief olfemled him, he would instantly
address the Chief in l"'rencli, and for ever confound him before the l)oys with his
inability to \md(;r.':land or reply.

There was besides, a servinj.; mnn, whose name was i'hil. Our retrospective
{glance presents Phil as a shii)wrecked carjxuiter, cast away upon the desert island
of ascliool, and carryinj^' into practice an in}^;nious inkliufj^ of many trades. He
mended whatever was lyokcn, and madcr whatever was wanted. lb,- was j^enerai
}:;la/.ier, anionic otlu;r tliiu}.;s, and mended all the broken windows — at the prime
cost (as was darkly rumoured among us) of nincj)ence, for every sf|uate eharg(!(l
three-nnd-six to parents. We had a hij^di opinion of his mechanical ■ "nius, and
generally held that the Chief " knew something bad of him," and <>u jiain oi
divulg'cnce enforced I'hil to be his bondsman. We particidarly remend)er that I'hil
had a sovereign contempt for learning: whieli engenders in us a respect for his
sagacity, as it im])lies his accurate observation of the relative; po .itifuis of the ("hief
antl the ushers. I le was an im])enetrable man, who waited at lahle betw(;en whiles,
and throughout " the half " kept the boxes in severe custody. I le was morose,
even to the CJhief, and never smiled, except at breaking-up, when, in acknowledg-
ment of the toast^ ".Success to Phil! J looray ! " he would slf»wly carve a grin
out of his wooden fiice, where it would remain until we were all gone. Neverthe-
less, one time when we had the scarlet fever in the school, Phil nursed all the sick
boys of his own accord, and was like a mother to them.

There was another school not far off, and of course Our School could have
nothing to say to that school, ft is mostly the way with schools, whether of boys
or men. Well ! the railway has swallowed up ours, and the locomotives now
run smoothly over its ashes.

So fades and lancuislics ^rows dim and dies,
All tliat this world is proud uf,

— and is not proud of, too. It had little reason to be proud of Our School, and
has done nuicli better since in that way, and will do far better yet.

(old, niirl ;ilw,iy
I > of (liUiiicI llli(i(;t
'Ikorcliicf to some
,' was a. very ^(xxl
desire to leant :
ed into a jiassion)
)ted into tiionolo-
t of hini ill a Mill
ry uricriH)Oii with
lste|) ftflho (liief
if a dread silence,
y rcj)lied, " Sir,
s, this is no place
in as the ^host in
" inatfenlir)!!, and
I the inediiini of a

^, aii'l Imif^dit the
i;at social demand
r(\ to come in the
("hief was always
' would instantly
the hoys with hi.-,

')nr retrospective
the flescrt island
lany trades. He
I f(,' was (general
t's — at the ])rirnc
y sfjuni'- charged
nical : enius, and
and '>n jiain of
ineniher that I'hil
1 respect for his
tionsof the Cliief
■ hclween whiles,
1 1(! was morose,
, in acknowledj^-
wly carve a {,Tin
;one. Neverlhe-
ursed all the sick

hool could have
whether of Ijoys
ocomotives now

Jur School, and

t#

T':uo cmhicnt Volunteers.

?r/i

OUR VESTRY.

\Vk have tho j:;lorinns j^rivilef^e of heinj,' r* .ay-, in hot W.ltrtr if \Vr li!;'^. \Vc ftre
a shareholder in .i (in/at I'aroclii^l I'.i iti.h J'finl Stock I'.ank of Ilalderdisli. We
have a \^,•slry in oiir l.if)ij)ii;^i, and can vole for a ve-.tryinan— nii{.;ht even /v a
vestryman, jnayha] I, if we wtre inspired by a l-jfly and noble ambition. Which
we are not.

f)tir Vestry i-. a di Tiber^'tive assembly f)f the utmost di^'nity and importance,
lyike tiie Senate of ancient koiiie,- iS awful ;;i,'ivity (;verpov;ers (or oiij^ht to -over-
power) barbarian visitors. Ii sits in the Capitol (we mean in the ca[)ilal bnilflinj.j
erected for it), chiefly (»n Saturdays and shake-; the earth to its centre with the
echoes of its thtin(lerinj.j elo'|iience, in a Sunday paper.

To {jet iiit(; this Volry in the eminent capacity of \'i-,lryrnan, ^i^antic efforts
are made, and Ilerculeiiri exctrtions used. Ii 1 , ni;id<: manifest to the dullest capa-
city at every election, that- if we reject Sno//Ie we are done for, and that if we fail
to brin^j in iJlunderbooze at the to|) of the piill, we are unworthy of the dearest
ri;^dits of iJritons. ^ ]'"laniin{4 jilac irds are rife rin all the dead walls in the )>orou{^h,
]iublic-hf)uses han;; f)Ut banners, hatkney-eabs bur. t into full-f;rown flowers of tyj/C,
and everybody is, or should be, in a j)aroxysni of anxiety.

At these momentous crises of the national fate, we are- much assisted! in our
deliberations by two eminent, volunteer, ; oneof wln^in subscribes himself A T'ellfAV
l^u•i^Ilioner, the other, A Kale-Tayer. Who they are, or^vhat they are, or where
liiey are, nobody kiiovvs; but, v.hatever one asserts, the o: her contradicts. They
are both voluininou . wi iters, indictinj; more epistles than \.ux(\ Chesterfield in a
sin^jle week ; and the {.,'ieater part of their feelings are loo bij^' for utterance in any-
tliinj.; less than capital letters. 'J'liey require the additi(;nal aid of whole rtjws
of notes of adinirali(<ii, like balloons, to ])(;inl their genttrous indignation ; and they
sometimes communicate a crushing severity to stars. As thus :

MKN OF .MOO.NKVMOL'.NT.

Is it, or is it not, a * * * to saddle the pari.^h with a debt of >!^2,745 ()S. ()<i.,
yet claim to be a RH;iij KCONomis r ?

Is it, or is it not, a * * * to state as a fact what is proved to be both a moral aud

a I'HYSICAI- IMI'OSSIIJII.ITY V

Is it, or is it not, a * * * to call /"2, 745 ds. ^yl. nothing ; and •falling, .some-
thing?

Do you, i)X do you ml want u * * * * lo kf.i'RKSF.NT voi; in' the Vli.STRY?
Your consideration of the>e (jueilions \.-> recommended to you by

A Fkllow f'ARISIirONKR,

It was to this important jniblic document that one of our first orators, Mr. Magg
(o( Utile Winkling Street), adverted, when he opened th'- great debate of the
fourteenth of N(jvember by saying, " Sir, T hold in my hand an anonyinrju.s
slander" — and when the interruption, with which he was at that point assailcfl by
the f)pposite faction, gave rise to that memorable discussion on a j)oint of orrler
which will ever be remembered with interest by constitutional assemblies. In the

i|i^

n

%■

111

it i

1W-:

if-

4 V

'

■J

2^2

Our J'h//y.

ii'i

: V.

nniinatcil dehatr to wliit h wr rcfrr, no fewer thnn fliiily-scvcii }.^i'iill(:incti, many i,j
llicm oT fjical fiiiiiiciH c, incliidinj^' Mk. WhisiiV (oT Cluimblcdoii Scjiiare), wiic
seen upon llicir Icfjs sil one linic ; and il was on the same ^rcil ()ci;asioii thai hoc-
UlNsoN -ri'}^ard(;d in oiir V'rslry as "a rcf^iilar joliii JJidl ;" \\i; l)i'licvc', in consc
(|m'iu:o ol his havinj; always made np his miiul oi| every sidijeel wilhoiil Ivijovsiii,;
nnylhin;^^ aliout il -inloiined another f;;enlleman oC similar primiples tm the o|i]ir,-
sile side, Ihal if he "cheek'd him," lie would resoil lo the exlremo measure ol
knoekinj; his Messed head oH.

'I'his was a ^^cat occasion. Ihil, o;ii N'estry shines hahilually. In asscrtinj^; it ,
own pre-emincnee, (or instance, il is very slronj;. On the least provocation, or o:,
none, it will he clamorous to know whether it is to he "dictated to," or " tramiijed
on," or " ridden over roujdi-shod." lis j;ri'al wat( hword is Scll-jjovernmcMl. 'Ilia'
is to say, supposing; our Vestry to lavour any lilih' haiinless disorder like 'J'yphii.
I'cver, and supposiuf^ the ( iovernmenl o( the country lo he, by .any .'xccidcnl, in
such ridiculous haiuls, as that any of its authorities .hould consider il a duly to
object to 'ry]ihus l''e\er -obviously an unconsi ilulional objeclion . then, our N'eslry
cuts in with a terrd>le manifesto about Self-^o\i'rnmenl, and claims its independent
ri)^ht lo have as imu;h Typhus I'evcr as pleasi-s itself. Sonu" absurd and dan}M:r()U ,
persons have roprcscnled. on the other hand, that ihoujdi our Vestry may be able
to " lu'al ihc bounds" of ils own parish, il may nol be abli' to beat the bounds of
its own dii,^ases ; which (say they) spread over the whole laml, in an evcr-ex|)aiu!-
inj.; cir(l(> of waste, and misery, and death, and widowhood, and orphanajje, and
(lesolalion. Hut, our Vestry makes short work of any sut :h lellows as these.

It was our Vestry- ])ink »)f Vestries as il is — that in support of its favourite
princii)le took the celebrated j^round of cleiiyint; tlu; existence of the last pestileiur
that ra[;ed in hai^land, when the peslili'iice was raj^in;; at the Vestry doors, l^oj^-
^inson said il was plums ; Mr. W'ij^sby (of C!huml)ledon Stpiare) said il wa.
oysters; Mr. Mai;}; (of Little Winkling Street) said, amid ^Mcat cheeriiiLj, it wn,
the newspaiiers. The noble indij^nation of our Veslry with that un-I'",njdish insti-
tution the Hoard of Health, imder those circumslanci'S, yiidds one of the ("iiu;st
|>assa^es in its history. Il wouldn't lu-ar of rescue. Like Mr. Joseph Millei'^
•'renclmian, it would be drowned and nobody should save il. Tiansporled beyond
{grammar by ils kindled ire, it sjxjke in mdiuown tongues, and vented unintelligible
bellowings, nu)re like an ancient oracle than the moilern oracle it is admitted on
all hands to be. Rare exigencies produce rare things ; and even our Vestry, new
liatched to the woful time, came forth a greal-r goose than ever.

Hut this, again, was a special occasion. Onv X'eslry, at more ordinary periods,
demands ils nu*eil of praise.

Our Vestry is eminently parliamentary. Tlaying at Parliament is its favourite
game. It is even regarded by some of ils mend)ers as a chapel of ease to the
1 louse of CiHjmions : a Little (Jo to be passed lirsl. Il has ils strangers' gallery,
and its reported debal (see llie .Sunday paper bcfoie mentioned), and our Vestry-
men are in and out of order, and on and off their legs, and above all are trans-
cendantly (piarrelsome, after the pattern of the real original.

Our Vestry being assend>led, Mr. Magg never begs to trouble Mr. Wigsby with
a simjile intpiiry. He knows l)eller than that. .Seeing the honorable geiUlt-'tnan,
associated in their minds with Chumbledon Scjuare, in his j)lace, he wishes to ask
tlial honorable gentlenian what the intentions of himself, and those with wliom he
a4:ts, m.iy be, on the subject of the ])aving of the district known as I'iggleuni
lUiildings ? ISIr. Wigsby replies (with his eye on next Sunday's paper) that in
reference to the question which has been nut to him by tlie honorable gentleman
opposite, he must take leave to say, that if that lionorable gentleman had had tlu;
courtesy to give him uotice ol that question, he (Mr. Wigsby) would have con-

iiiUMncn, mnny ni

m S(jii:iri'), wiic
:i:asi()ii lliiil I)(i(;.

x'licvi', ill con.c
willioiil luiowiii,'

»K". (Ill the (i|i|ii,-

iciiio measure ol

III asscrtiiij^; it:,

)i()V()e;ili()n, or oii

>," or " tiamplfd

ovcnimcnl. Tim'

nlc-r like 'J'yplui:,

any arcidcnl, in

.iilci il a duly to

tlicii, our Veslry

IS its iiulciieiKlent

iitl and daM|;<:r()ii ,

.'sliy may l.)c aMc

cat the hounds ol

1 an evi r-^-.\|iaiii!-

I orpliaiia^^e, aiul

ivs as lliesc.

I of its favouiih;

the hist pestih'iux-

>lry doors. Do^-

laic) said il was

I cheerintr, it \v;i ,

iiii-I'aijdish iiisti-

one of I he finest

r. Josi-ph Miller'^

aiispoilcd beyond

nled uniiUellijjjiblc

il is admilled on

I our Vestry, new

ordinary periods,

111 is its favourite
lel of ease to tin-
slrani^ers' yallery,
I, and our Vestry-
ovc all arc trans-
Mr, Witjsby with
)rable ^eiillenian,
he wishes to ask
)se with whom he
)wn as Piggleuin
's paper) that in
orable gentleman
iman had had the \
would have con- i

J

Afr. Tiddylyot.

293

siiMcd with his fo11«:i(;ues in reference lr» thf advisal>ility, in the jircHj'nt stale itf
the discussions on Ihc new |)aving-i.itc, of answering that •|uesti<jii. lUit, as the
lioiiorabie gentleman has Nor had the ef)urtesy to give hiin n(»licc of that f]ncstion
(i;rrat chi-ering from the Wigsby interest), he nmsl decline to give the honorable
jHMilleman the satislac tu)n he refiuires. Mr. Magg, instantly rising !■» ntort, is
i(H:eiveil with loud cries of " Sj)ol<e ! " from the Wi);sby interest, and with (.lieer>
(rom the Magg side of tiie house. Moreover, live gentlemen rise to onier, and one
oi them, in revenge foi being taken no notice of, pcliilies tlur assembly by moving
that this Vcslry do now adjouin ; but, is persuacled to withdraw that awful pro-
posal, in consideration of it , licmen'loiis consefpieiiecs if persevered in. Mr. Magg,
((U- the puipo.c f>| being heard, then begs to move, that you, sir, do now |)ass to
the order of the day ; an<l takes that opporlunily of saying, that if an honorable
genlleinan whom he has in hi . eye, an«l will not demean himscli by more particu-
larly naming (oh, oh, ami i heers), sup|)oses that he is to be put down by clamcnir,
that honorable gentleiiiaii however supportcil he may be, through thick and thin,
by a I'cllow i'arishioiier, with whom he is well ac(|uaiiited (< lieeis and (ounler-
chccrs, Mr. Magg being invariably backed by tlnr Kale-I'ayer)- -will lind himself
mistaken. l'|)on this, twtnty members <»f our \'estry spcrak in succession con-
cerning what the two great men have meint, until it appears, after an hour and
twenty ininulrs, that iicillici of ihem meant anylhing. 'I'lieii our Vestry begins
business.

We have said that, after the pallern of the real :';;inal, our Vestry in ))laying
at J'arliament is transci-ndanlly (piarrelsome. It enjoys a personiil altercation
above all things. Terhaps the most redoubtable case of this kind wc have ever
ha<l — though we have had so many that il is dilfu ult to decide — was that on which
the last extreme bolemnitie-. jiassed between Mr. Tiddypol (of (Jum[)lion IIou.-»e)
and Captain Hanger (ol Wilderness Walk),

In an adj<nirned debate on the c|ueslion whether water could be regarded in the
light f)f a necessary of life; respecting whidi there were great difTereiices of
opinion, and many shadi-s of sentinient ; Mr. Tiddypol, in a powerful burst of
clocpience against that hypothesis, frecjuently made; use of the ex[)ression that sucIj
?^\v\ such a rumour had "reached his ears." (!ai)tain Hanger, following him, and
holding that, lor janposes of ai)lutir)n and refreshment, a pint of water per diem
was necessary for every adult of the lower classes, and half a pint for every child,
cast ridicule upon his address in a sparkling speech, anfl concluded by saying that
instead <;f those rumours having reached the ears of the hoiujrable gentleman, he
rather thought the honorable gi-nlleman's ear-, must have reached the rumours, in
conse(|Uciice of their well-known length. Mr. Tiddypol immediately rose, looked
the honorable and gallant gentleman full in the face, and left the Vestry.

The excitement, at this moment jiainfuUy intense, was heightened to an .icute
ilcgrce when Captain Hanger rose, and also left the Vestry. After a few iiKunents
of ])rofound silence — one of those breathless pauses never to be R^rgotten- -Mr.
Chib (of 'I'uckc^t's Terrace, and the father of the W-stry) rose. He sai'l that words
and looks had passed in that asscndjly, rej)lele with consequences which every
feeling mind must deplore. Time pressed. 'i"he sword was drawn, and while he
spoke the scabbard might be thrown away. He moved that those honorable
gentlemen who had left the Vestry be recalled, and rcfjuircfl to pledge themselves
upon their honor that this affair should go no farther. The motion being by a
general union of parties unanimously agreed t(j (fcjr everybody wanted to have the
belligerents there, instead of out of sight : which was no fun at all), Mr. Magg was
deputed to recover Captain Hanger, and Mr. Chib himself to go in search of Mr.
Tiddypot. The Captain was found in a conspicuous position, surveying the pass-
ing omnibuses from the lop step of the fronl-door immediately adjoining ihe

\v.

"flSHW

gas

WW inmriiii WJ»g,-i

n . '«

h

• J(

Hm

w ..

il'ii-'rriB I i[l

■J««tii<i" tllria li-fW • t

^

*";i

Otff I V\ff y

••I

)ir;ii!li'*q \\\\\ • ^l i Tiililvpul m!nli' '\ t1i'<!|ii|:ilt> iiHi'llipl til (O'HihllHf, ||||| \\nn U\
ii»\\r)fi| liy I\li. rliilt (n I. liinilti\lily Imli' m|i| (m iillfiii:iit nl <i(i||| y ) Wi), ... |
Mini|ilil hinK in ^n(^lv.
Ml, liiMvpiil !inil ili«< t iiiiiMiii l-iiiir if")|iiic.l ).i iluii )il:ii'i<'!, mill iflnrlnj^ dm

(•111 \\ iMIIi'I, Wi'M' «!(IIi'iI npDM I'V tllf < ll:lil (il 'llimKluil ill ItMlllii iijrll illlrnl |( l)).l, iHl'l

j'lVi' llii- \'i":(M' Mil !i'-.ilU:UU r lliil (l|i\ .li'l ':ii l\|i Tiililvj'"! I 'imi ilK > I pi.,

Iiumillv ■ ilrni I llr < :l|.||lin lil' .'U 1;.. Ii'lll'liltril | M < '|nnl|i 1 1 \ lidlil. i-i!lvlll(; llllt l|..

w :m iihst'i \ril liy (liii;i' Miiiiinij liiiii Im IoM hi': himim li|<i' N!i|Mt|i>nii MiiMlin|in»lr«,
{Mill (i> '-null ill lii'i In I iilliinii lu limi'; l<nl l-'n i «(|ih''M\ i- n( |MIii|iii\viIi'|.

rilr inml ill|i'|l'4i« cninlinil 11<M\ |i|r\ :lilii|.

'I'Vilill llU'inliri ; (III', I. Mil III II

Ml

iiion''.|| ;ini 1' iMiin.l (lie ( :i| I.mii. mii'I '!t'Vri;tl miiihI Mi. I ii|ilv|'i'l ; I'hI. IimIIi wn,.
uliilnmlr Ati. < liii' llii'ii pn'iiiilcil liiiiuicll ;uiii>l hrmiinltin ; i In tMiin>, ""'' '■'•'''.

(il;\l llitl (n <;IuillK II i nil I llr ili ;i III I (M- 1 1( ||i') |viillllll 'IlllV. Ili'liml imw lilt >Vl' I II il
l>'>l II lliMIMI :\Mi' ^trnllcllli n I 'I 1:1 I II illlct t II ;lMii\ l>\' ih; In ii||( _ lll'l I Mll\ I \ ril I. ,

(111 iiiMii'^l poliic olVlii', lllrlf III It IhM In |,ii|. jli.' iiiiiMii m| |iuti('4 'liil i nii
1in\niljt>. lllr Illolii'U \\\V\ qi'iiillilril |i\ Mi \Nii;;l)V nil :ill ii';n;il nrcil'^inlis Ml.
1 liib"; xpi'oncnl ;iiiil i;i)'liiii»ii'<ly I 11 li' 'I w ilii only mir ili . .iiilii-iil voirfV 'I'lils
w :i I V v'.jmiI'-i'h'''. wli'i ';:iiil liiMii hi plm i- " I <| 'i iii (n hi i| mtl \\ilh (i'.lr»qj"
|i\ll W hiv.c ( ivil r inil'IlK W i; irn ixid :i ; il llinilnl.

I'hr hi';\i|li' iituv !\<1\ ;illicil illniii; I llf Ih h ii <\\ (lu' \' ';llv. lUi'l ln-i I; i ni'il \\il|| hi;
ooilvcl hill d' I'lvili inrnil'ii ;. I \ri\ |iii;ilh w :i ; • u.pi mh 'I 'In snv llnil ii pin
llli^hl l\:l\i> h. . n hr:iii| In (ill, wmiM jn' IrrMv h" rHpli"^:; ihr nil :il imh liini; ililcii .1
;il\i\ siU'lli r. ,'Miilih'lil\ . I iilhii^iKlic <hri'iili|; lilnKf mil liiijii (\iiv ';iili' mI Ihr
\'iK(vy. (npliiin Msiiumi hiil li'^ni - litini.'. in fiul. piillnl np hv ii (ii(>ii<l nn
rilhcr \\\\\\ nnd polviil \\\\ h\ :i hii'iiil |)> hiiiii.

rih ( :\nl

pldin '^illil. Ill :i ih'i'p ihli I niiiii i| Null I'. IImI Iir liiiil cvi'lV ••"^

perl fi

Ml

thill \(">iiy ;u\»l «'\ri\ ir.pcil Iki lh:il ihiiii; Ihul iii' ;il;ii rc^pn Icil ihi* hiitiur
ilMt' p;on|]»'nii\n ol « ininplinii ll-ui,. ; ImiI. llml hr irprih-il hi; hniini inoli'.
nni'iipon Ihr i':ipl;iin s;\l down. UMviiii; ihr wlinlr \'i .t ly iiiiu h iilliilnl. Mr.
ri«i<i\l>ol iiv-lnnilv 1i'm>. nnil \\:v\ ivrrivnl with Ihr '■.niiit' rin niiii^M'iiinil, I If
liUcwlM' Siiiil >\nil Ihe rvipii'Mlr ml '>l Ihi^; ninlui iniiiiiiiiiii" iit'il In llic ulmrrvnlhiM
;u\ air «»(" liTshnrs'^ mill novi'llv lli;il hr Inn Im.I cviiv n .p' 1 1 hu ih;il \'r^li y ; lh:il
hi' Inn h;ul r\ri V t"i"-)n'i I Ini lh;il rh;iii. Thiil hr Inn i c ;p('i Inl ihr Imimi nlth' hihI
}.\\ll;\lll (;iMllU-ui;\li nl \\ ililciiir.'. \\ :ilK ; l>nt. ihil hr Inn ir'.prrjnl hi; hnlinl llinn

n

<n\ '^ I

■VCl," Hihh'il till' ill .1 in;M'i -hi il \ r II yimiii, " il I hr |iniini;ili|(> iif (inlliilil

P"hIKm\\!M\ s honoi r< tU'Vi'i nmio ilnuhlril nul ihiinniM'il lh:ni il i. by iiic. lir 4 d

Ik

vi|;hl

i ;ipt;\ni i\;in};n llllUirili.lli'Iv :>l;iiln| up !ii;;lili, ilil'i iinl liinl ;illri llio'.r
ob^<MV;\liniv>. m\nl\iiit' ns lhr\ ilitl niiipjc rniu rs'onii In hi'-; hmini willimil i niiipm-
IWlsun; ihr honni nl ihr hnnniiiM,' j;cnlhMll:ni. hrwnuhl pr wiiiilili;; ill hniuii ;V.
Wv'U ii^ lU r,-n('in',||\-, il hr ih<l nnl ;il nllrr irjMii|i;itr ;ill inlrillinii nl \\ niliulilli; llir
honni nl ihc h|»Mni;\hir j^'iilh-niiin, ni sMxiiir ;iii\lhinj; ili .hniininliir In hi; huiiul-
al>lo loolinj;>. 'rht'S(Milv.ri\;i(inn . writ' irpciilcdly iiitniiiplril hy luii .Is of (liociK.
Ml. Tiiivlvpol rolnilrii ih.U lu' well Know ihr --piiil nl hnimi liy whiili ihr hmini
;\Mo iiiiil j^alhiul j;onlK'ni;vn \v.\s vn hniimiibly iiniiiiiilnl, anil Ihat he inccplfil ;iii
luMinvabhMApl.Mialinn, nllvMCil in ;\w,ivth;il iliil him liniior ; Iml, h^ liimlcd lliiil llic
\"o>liy Wvuilil lonsidoi ihnl hi-; (Mr. I iiKh tinl"-) hnnm had inipcralivcly (loinainh'l
ol him thai p;\inlul i'miv-i' whiv I1 ho h.id hat il ihio Id his liniini (n athipl. 'I'hi'
raptaii\ and Mr. Tiddxpnl lluai Iniuhcd ih 'iv hats lo one annlhta aiTo'/; \\\c
\ ostvy, a moat many tinios. and it is iholighl llial those pmooodings (rcporlod lo
tlio oxioni »>r sovoi.il oolunui:. in mwl Sunday's jiapor) will luiiij^ litem in a ;
vluiivhwaidcns no\l Nrai.

All this was stviotly ariov iho nattotn of the real oiij'Jnal. and so are the wlioh^
of our Vostry's prooccdini;s. In ;ill ihoir doluitos, tlu'y are laudably imitalivo ol

. lull wnst rtvi
I'ty hVM), ,,. I

ntlrl nl'llini; Ml)
inliiiliitii.!, iMi'l
• 'MlllllM'il |„,,

'■'niiii; iIkiI ||.

•II |ll|Ml|fl||.1(|,-.^

I< I

lu,|.'|r»l ill ir
ImiI, li-ill) -v, ).
•iiti;. :i||(| .11.1,
ii'iW IMUVr lliil

I'l < Mll\ I'V'll I'l
III!.".; ';|i|| , ,,ll

•i< I jKinlis ^Il
it \"ii(r.. 'I'lii;
I Willi fillf.., ;"

Imiii'iI w illi lii ;
) '•iiiv llinl II |Mii
s'tiliiiip iiilrii .1

ry '^i'li' 'iT llir

<V I (li'll'l nil

■•'ly it";|ii,'( I (ill
It'll llip liiiiiin

M liimm itiiiir.
mHimI.-.I. Mi.

i;i};iinriil. Mr

lilt' illmiM Vfllinli

!>l \'.'^((v; IIimI

llMJH i| mIiIc (1||i|
li ^ llnlKU IIKilr
llljc Ml ^Mllldlll

liy iiH'. Iir'^ mII
liiil nllci Il)()..'
illlniil I iiin|itii
i;; ii; Iimiuh .t;
I wiiimdiiif; llii'
' lo his Iioimi-
III .Is of tliriM';.
iill llir llniinl
K" nc('("|ilril ;m
riiKlnl liiiit llic

vrjy (Icm;U)i|i'i|

) iul(i|i(. 'I'Ik"

KM iU'roS'i |ll(^

s (iv))(iiI(mI 1<>
iij^f litem ill lis

arc the whoh!
)ly iinilalivc of

m^mmk<^§iK -x

lie hii\ ttnvrlliil.

2 0

llif> Mlll'ly riH'l Wurily sfniifj of »)i»' i»",I ».fjjfifii|, (Mi't of fiolfiJfif^ flinf 1^ h»"»f^f Ifi If.
TIm'V Imvc Im'M'I .li'iiijf )i;irly JuiiMi'i^ili*";, vvifli'inf wu^ ff'-trnif Ut Mi*- rriffits of
(|ii('ili(Mi<! ; fli<v I'M I- (I «;ifr(iri'i)Mj; fiMioiifil (if /|/|iri(/' fort vry linl" }iu><'tnf"w; tfi^y
I Hi'iic Imii liy fiMMi'; llnHi llicy »|fi liy i-,iili';f(Mi/ >"4 : nil v'fy lil<»' t\i(' ffnl

<ii

«it ii'iiin

III

M li III! Itccii (I'liil.lcd ill oiii li/irfiii(.;li, wIm'IImt our Vf^h/ t-i of nny
lilily; liiil fiiii Mvvii Miiirlu j'lii i<;, llnl it i; /»f Hi'- ii<i»' to tlir ISorfnij^li Oint n

«lllMiiii-liili(» MiilMii (■; Ion iijiii'lrr-, fm Mi;ililiii|; i» to )i'f('i/( ii| n ^ninll fociH

nll*5lll'lil V ;lll I III' III I'H »• (|((«( I ; (if I I ir f7;i| Olij(||| 'I.

of

i)V\i UOHV

I I i"^ lllilicf ('^t;;iiy lo ',;iy IJirit we l<C(|i.'i li(»fc. I , Vr'ry1iO(1y 'for?, (Sill, Hir )>rtT('

wlioiii we li;ivc llic |i|((isiirp jiiid honor of crmifi'mlid^^ t'ffion^ our [(,Trl(( iilnr friorifl^,
i'j mil h !i ((/'IK rji liorc, nii'l Iiik -.o rmiiiy trnilN (m-; il ;tj»j»(;ir-; (o n;; in /ornrfion v/itfi
the (Mfiil Ik-k (iriiily. tliiil we rue l* ni|.(»(l lo rriakc him Ih'; snhjcr t of tht; \n(-i'ui
Holes, M;iy h' Ic f/ re i;illy

I' I lit

Id !

< Mir lioic '-; iMhiiiMr (| on ill! Ii.infl-. t(» he >i (jo(»(1 lir;irh"fl f

rinri.

f f" rnay j.nf fifty
|iro|il(' oiil ol l('iii|i(r. lull he |m(|i; hi; ovvri. ( (c prcs' rv'-; ;» ;i( kly soii'l •irnih:
ii|>(pii Iii4 fiM 0, wlirri olln r l.if/s iirc iiillh'l l.y Ihc prrr f(< tion h'- h.-is nttn'nifi] in fiii
:iil, find liiK ill! ((iinilih- voi( ' vvhii h ii'v* r I ravels oiil <jf (ifw Uty <ir risfs al/ovf- one

nil h.

Hi

4 niiinncr is ii ni;inii('i of lr;iii()iiil inlfrf hI

N<

nitr of fill; o|iniloTis prr

Hliiilliii};. Anion^ hi'^ (l<'(|i('-;t r((ot»(l < onvir ti'nis, il ffi;iy l»f rri'fifion'd th;»t fi'-

((iMsldcis III'- ;iii ol l',n^
(ilwiiy^ • fdh the I o ri( h (

r'jiidjind

d;in(l 'I iMi|i, ;iri'i h'd'l , fh;il our livrly n' icrhl/Olirs — hr-

, iiir liv( ly (r» ijddc.iir-, hav llnr advanta^' of ii-; in that

|i(iHi( iihii. N( v( rlli'h ^^ he i-; iinaM* to for(.;( I that j'lliii iJidl i. John liiiiJ iiii the
Woild over, niid lliiil lMi(.d;piid with all h»i faults i-; Knj^land still.

< (III hole Ill's liav(ll((l. ff« (')ii|(l not p'r'ssihly Ik- n (ornph-lc )t<)r<^ without
haviiii^ liav'lli'l. II'' lao ly ,|.( iks of his Irav'Is without infro luring, sornf:tirncs
on his own phui (»f ( onstriH lion, nirrrs* Is f»f the I;in(,'naf^o of tho country -wfiith he
always Iranshilrs. Von r jinnol narri» to him any liitl'' refnot^• town in Fram,f,
Italy, fhiinany, or Swil/'rl,iii(| l.ul he l<n'»w-; it w'!l > '-.tayfjd tfirr'- a. forfnij^dit
iinihr |M( iiliiir ( ill iini'ilaiH 's, An(l talking of that litih' pl.-Kf, pc:rha(>s yoti knotv
a sliililc ov» I an old loimt;iin, ii|, ;i liltic ('airt, which i, Ihfr second- no, fhr thifo'
- slay y»'S, Ih' thiol liirninj'on lla rij^ht, aft^r yon Uiiof out of ih'* l''>st fious*',
t;oiii(; ii|i Ihc hill towards tin tnarht? Von //"//'/ know that Statu/:? U<iT that:
foiinlain '! Vou surprise him ! They arc not usually seen f/v travellers (rnr>st extra-
♦ irdimuy, h«! has nr vcr yet mcf with a, single traveller wh'i knew tfiern, cxr:e|)t dnr,
(iennaii, the niosi inlelli^'-nt man he f ver rn' t in his lif'- I) lait } . rtionf/ht that vor;
would )iav(" hecn the m;in t'» fin(| th(:rn (ait. And then lie (hscril»es them, in a
nicuinslntilial In lure h;ill an hour lon^,', (/enerally delivered hfhind a, (\(><}t wfiich
is eonslanlly h'inj; o|i(n((l foan the other si'lf ; and implores yoii, if you ever
revisit thai place, now (|(» |.;o and h;ok at that statue an(| fountain !

Our Iroir, in a similar manner, heinjj in Italy, made a <Ji>;covery of a drr.vifiil
picture, wlii( h has been the terror of a. Iar{;e |)ortif»ri of tfie civili/ed world ever
since. We have sc'ii the livr lie,! men jiaralysfd hy it, across a broacl dininjj-
lalile. lie vva''. loiin(;inj; aiiKai;^ the uKaintain-,, sir, haskin^.^ in the rneilow
innuciiccs ol Ihc < limate, when he ca/ne l'> iinn /-n'/i/'i ///icm- -'a little (;hurch— <>r
pcriiajis il would !><• more correct to say nini Jiintili ,<iimt (dfi/wlhi — the smallest, chapel
you can possibly imagine — an'l v/alkcl in, 'i here was nol;o(|y in.idc but 'a neco —

-'tS-
%

VBSSSS.

xtmfiim-'tt^'mem^ -'^■*.- ■

$»mmM0it'^-^

J

29^

Our Bore.

m

a Mind man — sayinp liis i)raycrs,an(l :\.^ec(hio padre — old friar — ratllinf^ a money box.
Hut, above tlu! head of that friar, and immc<liatcly 1o tlic right of the altar as you
enter— to the rip^dit of the altar ? No. 'i'o the left of the altar as you enter — or
say near the centre — there hiiiifj a painting (siil)jecl, Virgin and C'hild) so divine
in its expression, so pure and yet so warm and rich in its tone, so fresh in its touch,
at once so glowing in its color and so statuesque in its reimse, that our bore cried
out in fin ecstasy, "That's the finest picture in Italy ! " And so it is, sir. There
is no doubt of it. It is astonishing that that picture is so little known. Even the
i)ainter is uncertain, lie afterwards look Blunib, of the Koyal Academy (it is to
be observed that our bore takes none but eminent people to see sights, .and that
none but eminent pcoj)le take our bore), and you never saw a man so affected iti
your life as I'.himb was. He cried like a child ! And then our bore begins hi^
description in detail — for all this is introductory — and strangles his hearers with
the folds of the j)urple drapery.

TJy an e(|ually fortunate conjunction of accidental circumstances, it hapjicned that
when our bore was in Switzerland, he discovered a Valley, of that superb character,
that Chamouni is not to be mentioned in the same breath with it. This is how it
was, sir. He was travelling on a mule— had been in the snddlesome days — when,
as he and the guide, I'ierre P)lanc|uo : whom you may know, perhaps ? — our bon-
is sorry you don't, because he's the only guide deserving of, the name — as he and
I'ierre were descending, towards evening, among those everlasting snows, to the
little village of La Croix, our bore <»bserved a mountain track turning off sharply to
the right. At first he was uncertain whether it 7cv?.r a track at all, and in fact, he
said to Pierre, ^''Qit'cst que c'csl done, vion rr;/// f — What is that, my friend?"
'♦ Oit, moitsiatr .? " said I'ierre — •• Where, sir ? " " /m /-there ! " said our lK)re.
** Monsieur, cc u'esl rien de /ou/~^W, it's nothing at all," said I'ierre. " Allons ! —
Make haste. // va }iciger — it's going to snow ! " lUit, our l)ore was not to be
done in that way, and he firmly replied, "I wish to go in that direction— y> ryt'wx^
aller. Tarn bent upon it— y>.w/> dctermnic. JCn m'aut !—^o ahead!" Incon-
sequence of which firmness on our bore's l^art, they proceeded, sir, during two
hours of evening, and three of moonlight (they waited in a cavern till the moon
was up), along the slenderest track, overhanging perpendicularly the most awful
gulfs, until they arrived, by a win(ling descent, in a valley that ])ossibly, and he
may say probably, was never visited l)y any stranger before. What a valley !
Mountains piled on mountains, avalanches stemmed by pine forests ; waterfalls,
chalets, mountain-torrents, wooder bridges, every conceivable picture of Swiss
scenery ! The whole village turned out to receive our bore. 'J'he peasant girls
kissed him, the men shook hands with him, one old lady of benevolent appearance
wept upon his breast. He was conducted, in a primitive triumph, to the little inn :
where he was taken ill next morning, and lay for six weeks, attended by the
amiable hostess (the same benevolent old lafly who had wept over night) and her
charming daughter, Fanchette. It is nothing to say that they were attentive to
him ; they doted on him. They called him in their simple way, PAuf^e Ani^^ais —
the English Angel. When our bore left the valley, there was not a dry eye in the
place ; some of the peo]ile attended him for miles. He begs and entreats of you ns
a personal favour, that if you ever go to Switzerland again (you have mentioned
that your last visit was your twenty-third), you will go to that valley, and sec
Swiss scenery for the first time. And if you want really to know the pastoral
people of Switzerland, and to understand them, mention, in that valley, our bore's
name !

Our bore has a crushing brother in the East, who, somehow or other, was
admitted to smoke ])ipes with Mehemet Ali, and instantly became an authority on
the whole range of Eastern matters, from Ilaroun Alraschid to the present Sultan.

lie kai a dreadful Brother,

297

K a money box,

li(i altar as you

you enter- or

-Mild) so divine

:sli in its touch,

our horc cried

is, sir. There

.VM, Kven the

;adcniy (it is to

.if^iits, find that

sf) alfected in

)orc hc^ins hi-.

is licarers witii

happened that
perl) character,

Tliis is tiow it
c days — when,
ips ? — our bore
le — as l>e and

snows, to the
I off sharply to
and in fact, lie
, my friend?"

said our bore.

was not to be
tion— y> 7/t7/.r^
id ! " In con-
ir, during two

till the moon
ic most awful
>ssibly, and he
/hat a valley !
ts ; waterfalls,
:ture of Swiss
: peasant girls
^nt appearance

the little inn ;
tended by the
light) and her
■e attentive to
ujs;e Angfais —
dry eye in the
reals of you ns
Lve mentioned
illey, and sec
r the pastoral
ley, our bore's

)r other, was
I authority on
resent Sultan.

He is in the habit of expressing mysterious opinions on this wide range of subjects,
but on questions of foreign p(*liey more jiarticuhuly, to our bore, in letters ; and
our bore is continually sending bits of these letters to the newspapers (which they
never insert), and carrying other bits al)oiil in lii> pocket-book. It is even whi.-.-
])ered thai he h;i . been seen at the l'<jreign Office, receiving great consideration
from the messengers, and having his card pri^niptly jjorne into tlu' sanctuary of the
temple. The havoc comniilled in s(;ciety by this I'iastern brotlur is beyond belief.
(Jur bore is always ready with him. We have known our bore to (.ill upon an
intelligent young sojourner in the wilderness, in the (ir-.l sentence of a narrative,
and beat all confidence (uil of him with one blow of his brother. He became
omniscient, as lo foreign polic v, in the smoking of lln»>e pipes with Mehemet Ali.
The balance of p<jwer in Kuiwpe, the machinations of the Jesu; s, the gentle and
humanising influence of Austria, the position and ])rospects of that hero of the
noble soul who is wrjrshipped by hap|)y I''rance, are all easy reading to our bore's
ijrother. And our bore is so provokin^Iy self-denying about him! "I don't
pretend to more than a very general knowledge of these subjects myself," says he,
after enervating the intellects of several strong men, " but these are my brother's
opinions, and I believe he is known to be well-informed."

The commonest incidents and places would appear tc> have been made special,
expressly for our bore. Ask him whether he ever chanced to walk, between seven
and eight in the morning, down St. James's .Street, J.ondon, and he will tell you,
never in his life but once. • Hut, it's curicnis that that once was in eighteen thirty ;
and that as our bore was walking dt^wn the street you have jusl mentioned, at the
hour you have just mentioned — half-past seven — or twenty minutes to eight. No !
Let him be correct I— exactly a (juarter before ei^dit by the ])alacc clock — he met a
Iresh-coloured, grey-liaired, g(;od-humoured looking gentleman, with a brown
mnbrella, who, as he passed him, touched liis hat and said, " Mne morning, sir,
fine morning! " — William the Fourth !

Ask our bore whether he has seen Mr. iJarry's new Houses of Parliament, and
he will reply that he has not yet inspected them minutely, but, that you remind
him that it was his singular fortune to be the last man to sec the old Houses of
Parliament before the lire broke out. It happened in this way. Po(jr John Spine,
the celebrated novelist, had taken hiin over to South Lanibeth to read to him the
last few chapters of what was certainly his best book — as our bore told him at the
time, adding, "Now, my dear John, touch it, and yni'll spoil it ! " — and our bore
was going back to the club by way of Millbank and Parliament Street, when he
slopped to think of Canning, and look at the Houses of Parliament. Now, you
know far more ot the philosophy (;f Mind than our bore does, and are much better
able to explain to him than he is to explain to you why or wherefore, at that parti-
cular time, the thought of fire should come into hi^ head. Put, it did. It did.
He thought, Whal a national calamity if an edifice eoimcclcd with so many asso-
ciations should be consumed by lire ! At that lime there was not a single soul in
the street but himself. All was rpiiet, dark, and solitary. After contemplating the
building for a minute — or, say a minute and a half, not more — our Ixnc proceeded
on his way, mechanically repeating, What a national calamity if such an edifice,
connected with such associations, should be destroyed by - A man coming
towards him in a violent state of .agitation completed the .-sentence, with the excla-
mation. Fire ! Our bore looked nniiid, and the whole structure was in a blaze.

In harmony and uni(Mi with these experiences, our bore never Vvent anywhere in
a steam-boat but he made either the Jjcst or tiie \v(nst voyage ever known on that
station. Either he overlieard the captain say to him-.elf, with his hands clasped,
" We are all lost ! ' or the captain o[)Lnly declared to him that he had never made
such a run betore, and never should be al;le to do it again. (Jur bore was in that

ii*

iSSa

-immd0'

I

' ! .

Ii' .1

rcmiiikcti, MS lie IiimKimI mI il oiil oT his wimlmv in llu' V.ili(:Mi, " (> ('h/i< ! {hit:\/<i
riixii //,'ft uitii /ir//,i, »/ii/ ii>/(i<f,i, <otHi- ijih-^tit -( > lliMVfii! Ilir. lliiiif; will iicvct lie
• lone iifjain, liKc lliis ! " I !•• has seen every linn he ever smv, nndei soinc reinink
nlily |>i(>]iiliiins eirciMnslinu i>. lie Knnws ihen* is no (ancy in il, liccaiise in every
ease the showman ineniidiietl llie hu I at llie lime, and ii»nj;rat\il.ile<| him upon il.

Al one peiioil of his lile, oin liore hail an illness. Il wa . an illness ol ,1 dan
jjcrous eharaeler (or sonely al laij;c. lnno(enlly imiaiK llial yon aic very w<'ll, 01
ihat soniehody else is veiv well ; and onr liore, wilh a |ire(ai e tlial one ni'ver know,
what a hlessini; heallli is inilil one has lost il, is reminded ol Ihal illnis., and draj;s
yon thronjdi the whole of ils syni|tloms, projjress, and Irealmenl. Innocently
remark thai yon are nol well, or Ihat somebody tdse is not well, and the same
hievitaMe residl ensne-. \'on will hsam how oin Itoic fell a ti^dilness almnl Iktc,
sir, lor wliii h he couldn't a( comil, aecom|ianie(I wilh a constant sensation as il lie
were Itcin^j Mtahlu-d — or, rather, jolilied that expresses it more correctly — jolibcd —
with a MnnI knile. Well, sir! This went on, tmlil >parks hej^an to Hit before
his eyes, wal(M-\\ heels to tuin rouml in his !iead, iind hannners to heat incessantly
Ihnmp, thmnp, thump, all down hishaik alotij; tin* whole of" the spinal vertchnv.
< )ni' l)or«\ when his sensations hati come to this, thon)dit it a duty he owed to liinr
sell to lake advice, and he said, Now, whom shall I consult? lie naturally ihoujdil
of Callow, al lhal time one ol the most eminent physii ians in London, and lu; went
to Callow. Callow said, "Liver!" and jtrescrilied rhnharh and lalomel, low diet,
nml mod(-rate exeivise. < )\n bore went on wilh this Irealmenl, j;cliinj; woisi; every
<lay, milil he lost lonfidencc in (allow, ami went to Moon, whom hall the town
>vas then mad ahont. Moon was inleri'sted in the case ; to do him insliee ho was

very much mti-rested in the case

and h

ai(

I *' Kidnt'vs!" Me altered the wholi

treatment, sir j;avestron}f acids, cupped, and Mistered. This went on, our hore
-.till j^eltinj.; wors<* (>very (lay, until he openly told Moon it would he a satisfaction

to him if h(* would have a consultation wilh ( "lalte

he moment ( 'laller saw our

l)or{>, he said, " Accunnilalion of fat almut llu- lu'art ! '' .Smij'.jdrwood, who was
called in wilh him, differed, and said, " i'.iain ! " llul, what lliey all aineed upon
was, to lay our l)ori> upon his hack, to shave his lu-ad, to leech him, to administer
enormous (luanlitii-s ol nicdicini-, and to keep him low ; so that he was reduced to
a mere shadow, you wouldn't have known him, and nobody considered il possible
that ho could ever recover. This w:;s his condilion, sir, when he heard of jilkins —
at Ihat ]ieritid in a wry small prailii'i*, and livins; in Ihe upper ])arl of a house in
Croat Portland Sheet ; but still, you nnde'.sland, with a risini; ri'pulalion amoiij;
the few ]H>ople to whom lu- was known, ileiuf; in that londitioii in which a

tlrownini;- man i-alclies at a straw, our bore sent for jilkii

jil

<ni:i came.

Our

bore liked his eye, and said, " Mr. Jilkins, 1 have a ])resenlinu-nl that you will do
me i^ood." Jilkins's reply was ehaiacleristic of the man. Il was, ".Sir, I mean lo
iV'i you i;(u>d." This conrnined our boie's opinion of his eye, and they went into
the case coe;other -went coni]ilelely into it. Jilkins then i;ol up, walked across the

loom, came back, and sal down. His woitls wen- these

Vou

iia/e i)een hum

hui;i;eil. This is a case of iuiiigestitjn, occasioned by deficieni:y of power in llu;
Stomach. Take a mutton chop in half-an-hour, wilh a glass of the finest old sherry
that can be got for money. 'J'ake two uiutton chops lo-niurrow, and two glasses

i|;' I-.) ilic rxpp.
iiiiiikrd 1)11 iliai
il Mill !" fir

wIlK h ',( icii, ,.

'"K-. II ;,|„|

I VI'. 1 1{. vva.
""Wii III havr
I '/./,>! {hiistd
[ will never lie
siiinc nrin.irk
i;ur;r in cviiy
liini ii|iiiii it.
Ill' .'i •)( n i|;ni
ir very well, m
If never know,
It '• •, find (lr;i(;s
II. Innocently
;ini| (lie '.aiiir
•ss ahiiul here,
-iliiin as if lie
(ly -jolihefl-
n lo fill helor,.
K'.il ineessanlly
liii.il vert(;l)r;e.

• oweil lo liiin-
liiially ||ioiij;Ii(
II, .111(1 lu: Weill
unci, low (liel,
11); Worse every
liair the town
justice he was
^■rc'il the wholi-
it on, oiir hole

• a satisfiiclion
'I.iller saw our
Doil, who was j

I ai^'ieed upon

to adniinistcr ;
-as reduced to
red il possihle
id oT (ilkins —
of a house in
italion anioiif^ I

II in wJiieh a
came. Our j

it you will do
>ir, I mean to |
cy went into
:cd across the
/c been liuin-
K)wer in the
^•st old sherry
two glasses

hi. Ii'|.; 1, and Jilldiis'H succev, dale, hoin Ihil |m nod I

r)iir bore isjjreal in secnl inroririalion. II" li.i|i|)en-. lo know many Ihin^'s lliat
iioliody <'ls(; know .. He ( an j^;en(^r;illy tell y m whne Ihe s(i|il i. in tfie Miin.liy;
III- know, a dcil alioul the ',)iKen ; and ha. Iitlli- aiieidolr-, tr» iclale ol the loyal
nuisery. He ^;ivci yoii the jiidj;.-'', piivnte opinion of Sliidj;e ihe mnrdt ret, and
his llioiifdits whi'ii III- 1 1 ied him. Hi* happeiiM lo know what such a man ^ot i»y
I a transai't ion, and it w;i filler n ihoii .and livr hiinihid pound ., and In . im oni<

.11(1

IS I welvc lliiiif..ini| a year.

( )iir

.le r; al .o ^oeal in my .tery.

H(

hellt VC/., Willi

an rxavju'ialiiij; ap|)ear. nice cif profound meaning;, thai you s;iw I'arkiiiH la,t Sun-
day? Yes, you did. — I )id he say anythiuf; parli( iilar ? -No, nolhiri^; pattii iilar. —
<)ui lioie is Mirpiised al thai. Why? Nolhini;. Only he under. lood thai I'ar-
kins had come to till you som(lliiii(.j.- -What altoiit ? Well! «»ur hore i-; not ;it
liherty to mrnlion what .ilioiil. lint, he helievrs you will hear that from {'aikin

mm .<

If.

SOOl

1, and III- hope, il m;iy not airprise you as it did him. I'erlmps, hr»w-
<'vi'i, you never lie;ird .ahoiil I'arkin^'s wife'- si-.ter ?-- No. — Ah! says our hoie,
that ex])hiiiis it !

( »ur Imie is .also );re.il in arfMimeiil. lli- infiiiil'-lv enjoy; a lor)(.j liumdrn

drowsy

mien lt;mj^;e ol words ol di.pule a

Uout

nothing;

rn,

He cf^tisidir-. Ill it it

stren|;lhens the mind, conseipiently, he "don't '.ee that," very often. Or, he Would
l»e jdad to know what you mean hy that. ()r, he doubts that. ' >r, he ha . always
understood I'xaitly till' ri'V(rs(r of tliil. Or, he can't admit thai. Or, he Icj^s to
deny that. ( )i, surely you <l»(ii'l me.in that. And so fin. He once advised us;
offered us a jiiecc of advice, after tin; fact, totally impracticable and wholly impos-
sible f)f acce|ilaiH r, bec.aiise it supposed the f,i(t, then eti'rn.dly dispo.ed of, to be
yet in abeyance. 1 1 was a dozen years aj^o, and to this hour mir bf»ri' bcaievolently
wishes, in a mild voice, on certain rej^ular occasion;., tlird we had tlifni|;hl belter ai
liis (^iiiiiion.

The iir.liiul with wlii( h our i)ore finds out anotlii'r bore, .'ind closes with him, is
;ini;i/in}^'. We have seen him pick hi , man out of liliy men, in a couple of minutes.
'I'hey lovo lo ^^o (which they 'lo naturally) into a slow ar).Mim(mt on a previously
exhausted siibjecl, .and to conlr;idi(l eacii other, audio wear the hearer-, out, with-
out inijiairinj; their own pereiini.il freshness a-, bores. Il improves the }.;ood under-
slandiii}.; between them, and they {,'et to^^jether afterwards, and bore each other
amicably. Whenever we see our bore bi hind a dor;r with anolher bore, we know
that when he comes forth, he will )(rai-.e the (^Iher bore as ' aie of ihe most intelli-
}.;eiit men he cv('r met. And liii-. briiij.;irij.^ u-. to the close of what W(; had to say
about our bore, we are ;in.\iou.. \.'j have il uiiclcibtoucl that he never bestowed tlii-s
praise uu u.s.

■^^ t

h t"

t .7

i' ; I.

3^0

yl Monument of /Wm/i folly.

A MONUMENT OF FRENCH FOLLY.

1 1' was pnifoundly (>l)srrvr(l hy .1 witly jnonilior <->{ tlio Criurl of Common Council,
ill ( "oiiiK il n.-iC'iiiMcil ill llir ( ily of I .oiidoii, 111 tin; year of (dir Lord on«; thousaii'l
c'ij^lil liuiiilicd :ukI lifly, lliul llic liciich .uc idioj^-caliiig pcoj[)lc, who wear wooden

si IOCS.

Wy arc crcdilily inform('<l, in reference to tiie nation wliom tliis clioice spirit so
liappily dis|<Ohed ol, lliat tiic eaiicaturc^s and st.ijjc." representation!, wliieli were
current in I'Ji^land some half a eenluiy a^'o, exactly depict their present con(hti(iii.
For examph', we understand that every I'renchiiian, without exce|)tion, wears a
pij^t.'iil aiui curl-pa|)ers. 'I'hat he is extremely saHow, thin, lonf^'-fai;e<I, and lantern-
jawed, 'lliat the cr.lves of his le^s are invarialjly undevelopccj ; that his le^;s fail
at the knc.-es, and that his shoulders are always hij^her than his ear.-.. Wc are like-
wise assured that he rarely tastes any food hut s(jup mai;;rc, and an onion ; that !ie
always says, " I>y (Jar I Aha ! Vat you tell me, sare?" at the end of every sen-
tence he utters; and that the true f^enerie name (jf his race is the Mounscers, or
the I'arly-voos. If he he not a dancinjj-master, or a barber, lie must be a cook ;
since no other tradis but those three are con{;enial to the tastes of the peojjle, or
permitted by the Instiluticjiis of the country, H" is a slave, of course. The la<lies
of France (who are als(^ slaves) invariably liave their heads tied up in Iklcher
liandkerchiefs, wear lonj,' earriny;s, carry tambourines, and be^^Miile the weariness of
their yoke by singinj^ in head voices tlucnij^h their noses — principally to barrel-
oifjans.

it may be generally summed uj>, of this iiifericjr people, that they hove no idea
of anything.

Of a great Institution 'ike Smithfield, they are unable to form the least concej)-
tion. A I5east Market ' the heart of Paris would be regarded an impossible
nuisance. Nor have t'ley any notion of slaughter-houses in the midst of a city.
One (jf these benighted frog-eaters would scarcely understand your meaning, if you
told liim of the existence of such a iJritish bulwark.

It is agreeable, and jjcrhaps ])ar(Ionable, to indulge in a little self-complacency
when our right to it is thoroughly established. At the jiresent time, to be rendered
memorable by a hiial attack on that good old market which is the (rotten) apple of
the Corporation's eye, let us comiiare ourselves, to our national delight and prick-
as to these two subjects of slaughter-house and beast-market, with the outlandish
foreigner.

The blessings of Smithfield arc too well understood to need recapitulation ; all
who nm (away from mad bulls and pursuing oxen) may read. Any market-day
they may be beheld in glorious action. Possibly the merits of our slaughter-lupuses
are not yet <piite so generally appreciated.

Slaughter-houses, in the large towns of England, arc always (with the exception
of one or two enterjjrising towns) most numerous in the most densely crowded
places, where there is the least circulaticjn (jf air. They are often underground, in
cellars ; they are sometimes in close back yards ; scjmetimes (as in S])itairields) in
the very shops where the meat is sold. Occasionally, under good private
management, they arc ventilated and clean. For the most part, they arc unventi-

• Y.

"iioii rouncil,
<'iir lhous;iM«i
wear vv(jo(lcij

<>it:e spirit so
which were
"It ( uii(h'ti(jii.
tioii, wt:ars a
, and hintcrn-
t liis lcj,'s fail
^Vc arc liki'-
'i'>n ; that !u'
of every .scd-
^loiinsccrs, or
t l>e a cook ;
lie pef)j;le, or
. 'I'lic ladies
P in r.clcher
' weariness of
lly to barrel-

lipvc no idea

least concep-
1 inipossihle
1st of a city,
aning, if you

complacency
Ije rendered
en) ai)ple of
I't and pride
•' outlandish

Illation ; all
market-day
;Iitcr-houscs

c exception
;Iy crowded
iground, in
lalficlds) in
wl private
re unventi-

7'irjo//y old English Rotut Hief,

3^1

latfd and dirty; and, to thr rcekinf.; walls, putrid fat and other offensive animal
matter elin{;s with a tenacious hold. The liusifsl slanjditcr-houseH in London are
m the ii<.i^;hl)ourliood of Smithhrld, in .Newj^atc" Market, in Whitethapcl. in New-
port Market, in I.eadenliall Market, in Clare Market. All these places are
surrounded by Imuses of a poor descri|)tion, swarmin^j with inhalntants. Some of
them are t lo^e to the worst l)tnial-;.Tound-, in l-oi'don. \\ lu-n tin- slau},'hter-house
is below the j;round, it i , a common practice to throw the sheep down areas, neck
and crop— which is excilini,', but not at all cruel, Whcii it is on the level surface,
it i^ often exiiemely dilficnlt of approarli. 'I Inn, the beasts have to be worried, and
t;o;ylefl, and pronged, and tail-twi-.t<vl, for a lon^' lime before they can be f.jot in —
which is entirely owiuff to their natural ob.tinacy. When it is not ditficult of
.'ii)j>roach, but is iti a foul cf»ndilion, what they see and scent makes them still more
reluctant to enter -which is their natural obstinacy n;;ain. When they do (^-t in
at last, after no trouble and sulferinj^ to speak of (for, there i-. nolhinj,' in the
previous journey into the heart of I.(»ndon, the ni^jht's endurance in Smithfield, the
stnij^'f^le out atjain, amonj^' the crowdi-d multitude, the coaches, carts, wa^'^^'ons,
omnibuses, f^ij^s, chaise., i.hndons, cabs, trucks, do-^'s, boys, whor)iMnj;s, roarinf^s,
and ten thousand other (ii.-.tra(tion-.), they are represented to be \\\ a' most unlit
state to be killed, according to microscopic examinations nia'Ie of their fevered
blood by one of the iiio.t distinjMii^hcd pliysiologists in the world, ruoFr.sscjR
(nvF.N— but that's humbug. When they ^//v killed, at la.->t, their reeking carcases
are hung in impure air, to become, as the .same Trofessor will explain to you, less
nufrilious and more unwholesome -l)ut he is only an ////cf)m!non counsellor, so
don't mind /lini. In half a fpiarter of a mile's length of Whitcchapel, at one ti.nc,
there shall be six Inmdred newly slatightered oxen hanging up, and seven hundred
sheep — bui, rhe more the merrier — ])roof of prosjjcrity. Hard by Snow Hill anrl
Warwick Lane, you shall see the; little children, inured to sights of brutality from
their birth, Irc.lting along the alleys, mingled with trooi)s of horribly busy pigs-, up
to their ankles in blood — but it makes the young rascals hardy. Into the imperfect
sewers of this overgrown city, you shall have the imni'mse' mass of corru])tion,
engendered by these practices, la/ily thrown out of sight, tf) rise, in poisonous
gases, into your house at night, when your sleeping children will most readily
absorb tlieni, and to Tinfl its languid way, at last, into the river that you drink —
but, the I''ren(;h area frog-eating people who wear wooden shoes, and it's O the
roast ])cef of I'jiglanrl, my boy, the jolly old English ro:. .t beef.

It is (piite a mistake — a new-fangled notion altf)gether-— to supj)ose that there is
any natural antagonism between putrefaction and health. They know better than
that, in the Common Council. You may talk about Nature, in her wisdom,
always warning man throuj^h his sense of smell, when he draws near to something
dangerous; but, that won't go down in the (!ity. Nature very often don't mean
anytliing. Mrs, (Quickly says that j)runcs are ill for a green wound ; b»it whosoever
snys that putrid animal substances are ill for a fjreen wound, or for robust vigor, or
for anything or for any body, is a humanity-monger and a humbug. IJritons never,
never, never, &c,, tlicref(>re. And prosperity to cattle-driving, cattle-slauglitcring,
bone-crushing, blood-boiling, trotter-scraping, trine-dressing, paunch-cleaning, gut-
spinning, hifle preparing, tallow-melting, and other salubrious proceedings, in the
midst of hospitals, churchyards, workhouses, scIukjIs, infirmaries, refuges, flwellings,
])rovision-shf)ps, nurseries, sick-beds, every stage and baiting-place in the journey
from birth to death !

These ;/«common counsellors, your Professor Owens and fellows, will contend
that to tolerate these things in a civilised city, is to reduce it to a worse condition
than IJruck found to prevail in AiiYSSi.MA. For there (say they) the jackals and
wild dogs came at night to devour the offal ; whereas, liere there are no such

I

1 '■ 'M

3Q2

// MonuniciU <>J P'rciich Folly.

imfnini s(nv«'nj;crs, nnri f|nitc ns snvn^c ciislotTis, l''iirtIuT, tlicy will flciiionslt.ilc
lliril nolliiii}' in Nulnrf is inlciid'''! lo l>(' wn'.lcfl, nn«l tlinl bci'lc-; llic vv.r.tc which
MM h ;il)ii,cs ()(;<ii',i<iii in the ;uli(lcs(ir henhh \\\v\ hfr— main sources of ihc lichcs
<if ;iny coininiinily -they Ici'l lo ;i prodijfimis wnsir of c h.-inj^iiig ni at tors, which
inifHil, u ilh |)r(;|icr ;)rc|i;ir;ili()i), ;iti'l iindcr •.cicnlilic dircclioii, he snfrly .'i|)|ili(.'cl I', the
iiiciciisi; III the rcrlilily of the ImihI. 'I'hus (they nrjnic) docs Niitnic ever avcn/^'o
in(i;i( lions o( Iier heneficent hiws, .-ind so surely fis M.in is delerniinc<l lo wnrp any
«i( h'l Ilh' ,sin|;s into curscK, sh;dl tiiey l»(M:oinc curses, and sh.'dl lie suffer heavily.
I'.nl, this is cant. fust as it is (ant of the worst description to say to the l.ondon
( 'oi poialioti, " flow (an you exhihil lo the j)eop|e so plain a spectacle of <lishonest
Cfpiivociition, as lo ehijm the rijdil of lioldin}.^ a niarkel in the midst of the ^reat,
city, for one of your vestcl privileges, when you l<now th.it when yf»ur lasl market
jioidinf^ charier was {.nanted to you by Kin.L,' (Charles the I'in.t, Snnthlield stood IN
'I'll!': SiMiiM<iiS OI'' London, and is in that very charier so descrilxvl in those five
words ?"-whieIi is certainly true, hut has notliinf^' to do with the f|uestion.

Now lo the comparison, in these particulars of civilisation, helwcen the capital of
I'a)|.dand, and the capital of thai fro|4-eatin|.j and wooden shoe wearinj.; C(nint:y,
which the illustrious ( onnnon ("onncilrnan so sarcastically settled,

In Paris, there is ncMlaltle Market. Cows and calves are soM within ihe city,
l)>il, the (altle Markets are at I'oissy, about thirteen miles u['i, on a line of railway;
and at Sccaux, about hve miles off. 'I'hc Poissy market is held every 'I nursday ;
theScoaux market, every Monday. In Paris, there; are no slaujditer houses, in our
acceplatio?) ol the term. 'J"!iere are five public Abattoirs -within (he walls, lhouj.d)
in the siduirbs- ;mil in these all Ihe slaupjiterinj^ (or IIk; city must be ])erformed.
They are mannj-ed by a Syndical or (luildof P.utchers, who colder wit h the Minister
of the Interior on all nintters alfstiiif^ Ihe trade, and who are (onsulted when any
new rei;ulalions are conlcinplated (rn- its j.;overnment. They are, likewise, under the
vifdlanf superintendence <>( the police. I'.very butcher must be licensed : which
proves him at once to be a slave, for we don't license butchers in I'.iifdand — we only
lic;'nse apothecaries, attorneys, ])osl-mnsters, pul)licans, hawkers, retailers of
tobacco, snuff", pepper, an<l vinet^'^r— and one or two other lillle liadrs, not worth
mentioninjj. I'.very arranjjenient in connexion with the slauj^hterin}.; and sale of
meat, ismalli'r of strict jiolice rejnilation. (Slnvery ai^aiii, thouf^h we certainlv
have aj^eiieial scut of Polict- Act iiere.)

Put, in order that the reader may understand what a .nonuinenl of folly these
fro^f-ealers have raised in their abattoirs and cattle-markets, and may compare il
with what common counsellini^ has done for us all these years, and would still do
but for the iimovaliiif; s[»iiil of the limes, here follows a short account of a reccnl
visit to these places :

Tt was as sharj) a F'ebruary morniiif; as you would desire to feel at your finders'
ends wiu'n I turned out — luinbliii}; over a chiffonier with his little basket and r.ike,
who was ))ickin}; u|) the bits of colored paper that had been swejit out, over-ni^ht,
from ;i. P>on- Hon sho[) to take the Putchers' 'I'rain to I'oissy. A cold, dim lij^ht
just touched the hitdi roofs of the Tuileries which have seen such chanj^es, such
distracted crowds, such riot ami bloodshed ; and they looked as calm, and as old,
all covered with while frost, as the very Pyramids. 'I'here was not li;.dit euou^^li,
yet, to strike upon the towers of Notre Dame across the water ; but J thought (jf the
dark i)avcment of the old ( alhedral as just be^^innin^' to be streal^cd with f^^rcy ;
and of the lam|)s in the "House of (jod," the 1 fospital close to it, burning low
and boiiif; rpienchcd ; and of the keeper of the Morinie Ljoiii!:,' about with a fading
lantern, busy in the arrangement of his terrible wa\wf)rk for another sunny day.

The sun was up, and shining merrily wlien the butchers and I announcing our

11 d('inoi)sfr;ii(,«
ic wnsfc which
"i of the riches
"I iltfT-;, which
y-il'l'lic'l 1'. the
IC ever nvciifrf.
'' '" w.-n|) ;iii'y
•iifd-r hc'ivily.
'> 111'- f.oiul'Ui
''■ of 'lishoiicsl,
of Ihc ^M'cnf
!'• '•■•'■I ni,-irl<c(
I'i'Irl sloofi i,v

' "I lIiOHc five
lion.

"ic (rtpit.il of
"ii'i: toiiDtry,

if'iin Ihc (ily,
I"' of r.iilw.iy;
•ly 'I mirsdny ;
houses, ill (Mir

walls, |l)0||^r|,

)(• iififor/iuvl.

h th«; Minister

Icij when any
i'isc, iiiKJer the
c;tisc(l : whi( h
and — we only
retailors of
:cs, not, \Vf)rth
; .'111(1 sale of

we ccrlainlv

of folly these
ty conip.'ire it
would still do
It of a recent

your finders'
kct anrl rake,
t, over-ni^'hf,
I'l, dim lij^rhf
liaiif^es, Mich
, and as old,
h'M <'iiou{,di,
luuj^htof tiic
I with f,'rcy ;
I)iirniii/^' low
villi a fading
liny day.
ounciiig our

i'oiuy and It i CiilJ Market,

303

dep.nturc W'fh an cnjnne shriek to slee|»y Paris, rattled away forllie ('allle Market.
Aeioss the .„ intry, over the Seine, riinoii;r ;i forest of s{;rul)l)y trees — ^the honr frost

ts

7 » .... . , .... •..,,, , ... ,.„..,,... ^ ....... , .... ,....

lyin^j (old in shady places, and fdilteiinf; in tli<; li^lit — and here ue are at I'oi.-.sy I
Out leap the liulehers, who have heeti chalferinf,' .all the way like inadtnen, and of
thev stra^jeie h^x the (..atlle Market fslill challennj;, of course, in(:e-.fl,nntly), in liat.s
;'.,id cap, of all shape., in coats and hlouses, in calf-skirrs, cow-skin-., hor.-.e-skinK,
furs, sha^'ijy mantles, jiairy coats, sackinj;, haixe, (;il-skin, anylhinj.,' yon j)lease that
will k( 1]/ ,1 man and a butcher warm, upon a fro-,fy morning'.

Many a h rem h town have I sen, h(;tvveeii this spot of ground and .Stiashur^^h or
Marseilles, thai ini;;lit sit for yoiu' |)ie,tine, little I'oi ,-.y ! llaninj; the rl'tails of your
old cliurcli, I l.iiovv you W'll, allirit vvc m.d<e ;uf|uaintance, now, for tli'- lir.t tnne.
I know your narrow, slra;,^i;lin;.^, windiu},^ .,trcet>, with a kennd in the mid-.l, and
lam[>, slung at'os-.. I know your picture ^(|ue street-c(;rners, winding ui.i-hill Heaven
knows why <u- wIi'tc ! I know your tradesnien'.s niseri|»lions, in letters n<^t f|uile fat
riiou;;h; your harhers' liraz<n h.isins dangling over little shop.s ; ycnir (,"afes and lOsfa-
minels, with < loudy hotths of stale syruj) in the windov/ ., and pic tures of crossed
hillinrd cue. f»ul-.i'le. I know this identical grey horse v.ilh hi^ tail roiled up in a
knot like Ihc "l>;i(k hair" (/f an untidy woman, who \\in\\ lie .IkkI, and who
makes him ,(•!( heraldic l»y clatlcring acr(<ss the street (»n his hnid Irg,, while twenty
voices shrii h and growl at him as a ihigand, an accuised KoMxt, and an ever-
lastingly-doomed l'i;'_. I know yoiir .sparkling town-fountain, to*;, my Tokssy, and
am glad to .ce ii near a caltle-market, gushing so freshly, under the auspices of
a gallant liltlc; -.iiMimaled Frenchman wrought in metal, perched upon the tot).
Thiougli all the' land of I''ranc<: f know thi > inr-,wei)t room at 'I'he (^lory, with it:-;
]»eculiar smr'l (d heans and coffef;, wh<'ie the butchers cr(^wd ab(;ut the stove,
drinkin;^ the thinnest, of wine from the smalle-.t of tunrblers ; where the thickest of
coffee-cup.-, mingle with th(; longe.>t (;f loave;, and the weake.-.t of lump sugar ;
where Madame al th<; counter ea.^ily acknowledge-, the- lumiage of all entering and
de))arting butchers; where the billiard-table i.s covered up in the mid;-.t like a great
bird-cag(;- but the bird may sing by-and-by !

A bell ! 'ihe (!alf Market ! I'l.lile d'-parture of butchers. Hasly payment
and dep.'irturc on fli(.' p.irl of amateur Vi.itor. .Madame reproache-. Ma'ani.selle for
too fine a suscepi ibility in referente lolhe devotion fif a I'.utiJier in a liear-skin.
Monsieur, th(; landh/id of The (ilory, counts a, dr)ui(le handful ofsou-,, without an
unf)bliterated in.scripl ion, or an imdamaged cr((wned head, among them

There is little noiscr without, aijundant. space, and no confusion. 'I'he f)i)en area
devoted tr> the market is divided into three portiorrs : the Calf Market, the Cattle
Market, the Sheep Market, ('alves at eight, cattle at ten, sheep at mid-day. All
is very clean.

Thc-Calf Market i, ;i r;ii .erl platform of stf»ne, sritne three or four fe'l high, open
on all sides, with a lofty overspreading roof, supiforted (^n stmie column.-., which
give it the appearance of a .sort (<f vineyard from Northern It.dy. Here, on the
raised pavenifiil, lie innumerable calves, all iK^unrl hind-legs and fore-leg-. tr)gether,
and all trembiing violently perhaps with cold, j)erhaps with f<:ar, perha|>s with
pain ; fcjr, this mode u\ tying, which seems to be an ab-.olute super-.tition with the
peasantry, can hardly fail to cause great .suffering. \hin:^ they lie, pafit;ntly in
rf>vvs, among the straw, with their stolid faces and inexpressive eyes, superintended
by men and women, br)ys and girl, ; ln-rc they are inspected by (<ur friends, the
bulcher.s, bargained for, and bought. I'lenty of tiiiK; ; plenty of room; plenty of
good humour. " .Mrtnsieur I''ran(,oi.-, in the bear-.^kin, Ikav do you do, my friend?
You come from I'ari.^ by the train? The fresh air doe^ yon gfK)d, If you
are in want of three or four hue calves this market nu^rning, my angel, I
Madame Docbe, .shall be happy to deal with vou. Jiehold these calves, Monsieur

i

i

I.

■fflWfi

!JjM^:.

.^04

/ Mt^Jiumnif «'/ Fnuih f-W/v.

i hi si

t ■: i-

• I-

I t.

I''v;inv,'nis ! lliiMi lli-iwcn, you n\i' diMil'llnl

W

01. Will

imni'

■•111(1

I'KlK

i\bont

^^n^.

It viM\ (iuil Ix'lU't ("1 llu' inoni'V. Iniv ih-in. 1( ni<l. rnmr In ino !

TM<>n''iv'\n- VV;\ii(,ois j;i>(s his \\;\v Ui'-iut-lv, Mini Krcp^ .i \\:n\ <•)(* iipnu llir stoiK.
No olhoi' iMili'hcr jo. lies Moti'^irm l''i;in(,t>is ; IMominu I'"riiin,ois jostles no oIIhm
iMitihoi'. Noboilv is l1usl(>iril mnl ;\}^i;vnv:ilr<l. NoImxIv is snvn^c. In llu- iiiitlsl
of the rounhv M\io fiorKs uml rod liMmlKoirliirrs, nn'l lh(> Imlchcrs' routs, slirtmn',
\\\y\\\ -AwA h;\\y\ : ol' i';\ir skin, vow-sUin, hois(< skin, nnd li(:u -skin : towors n lotkiMl

ai ^n-,it ronls ntvl rki^ntl liats.

hM

Mnd .1 hlnr V loul

An(

SlaviMV ! 1'or .v<»
l^nl now tlio Ivntorini; i"^ oxct. nni

I'ol

1 tl

lie w <

10 v:\\\r

MH'

ll<

•i'

(in

'{;oni\

oni<

iin.

lur

! Ifiins; ni» tin* \.arl;. nn vhiMicn ' <,'iii' k, Inavc inliinls !

nok\ ! Hi!"

V\w o;Uls. woU liiitMrd wiih siiaw, nii" 1v\« k. I np lo |Im' (>i1im» (<r iho rnist"!
^MUvMuenl. ;ini] v;\nl^us l^l^l inlMiils v;niv<al\r; upon tlirii luaik;. and dcNlcrotisIy
j>iU-h lIuMU in. whilo ollicv lio( infants, standing it» (hr vail', arianr-' the calvrs,
■Mh\ ]\\y\< \]w\\\ \\\\vM]y in sii'aw. llovo is a pionii^int; vo\nv_^' t-alf. not ^oM, Nvhoni
Mrtikxnio IVhIio \n\hin/k.. Tavdon nu\ Madanio lv<rhr. hul I Irai this nwnh; o|
tyin«^ tho fonv K'^s ol a i|nailnipr.l loorlhrv. lho\)i;h sliidly a h\ moth', is not tptitr
vipht. \">>n o1>s(M\o. Alailaine I >orhr. that iho rot'l loaves (h'cp indcntiUions in the
sKin, and thai the anin\al is so naniped at firt as not to know, «n- oven remotely
susj>oet that ho :.\ imbounvl. itntil von ate so nhlioini; as to kiv k hin), in your delienle
little wav. and p\,ll his tail like a l>olI rope. Then, he s|aot;eis to his knees, \)v\
heinj; aMe to ■.tand. and slmnhles ahoui like a diunkon *all, or tin* hoiso at
l"*r;\neoni's. whom \o\i mav hav«' -eiMi, Madanie Ooi he, who is supposril to have
been luovtallv \\onnd<'d in l>alll(\ IhU, \\hat is ihis rnhhiiii; against nie, as I
;^pos^v^^p]1ise Mada\no l)v>Ji(^ ? It i> another heated infant with a ealT upon his
\\c:yi\. " Tavdon, M'linsiein. hut will vo\i have the politeness to allow nn" to pass?"
" Ah, sir, \villiuj;Iy. 1 an< ve\«Nl to ohstruel tho \\a\." On he s1a^};ers, calf and
all. and makes no allnsi.>n what«^V(M- eithiM- to nu- eves oi- lin>bs.

Now. the eavts are all tull. Move sirau, mv Anloin(\ to shake over those top
rows; (hen. oiVwc^ will elat'.er, mniMo. jolt, and ratlh\ a lono low of us, out of the
first town i;ate. ae.d out at the ^eeond town L:ato. and pa ^1 the emptv sentry ho\,
.'\nd the litde thin square h;\ndho\ y^\ a i;uaidhou' (\ where nohoilv seenis to live ;
nnd rtway for T.vris, ny the ]iaved r^^ad, Ivins;, a s|iais;hl ••liai^;ht line, in the lone
Umij;; avenue of tlx^es. We ea\i neither rhoose our road, nor oui paro, lor that is nil
nreserihed lt> ns. 'I'lio piihlie eonven.enee demands that our earts should y\c[ to
r.iris by sneh rt nnrte. and ti<^ other (Naj^oleon had Iri-uie to lind that out, while
he h,-\vl n little w .\i w ilh the world iipon his hand^), and woe betide \\\ if we infrin{;c
\M-ders.

l>r»nes o{' o\\:\y stnnJ in the Tatth^ Market, tied to iron bars lixed into posts o(
i;ranite. Other droves advanee slowly down the Ion;; avenue, jMsl the seeond
town-i^rtte. and tlu^ tiiNt town qate, and the sentrv box. an<l the b,\ndl)o\, thawini^ the
morning wiih their smoky breath as thev eonu^ aloni;. rUuily of room ; ])lenly of
(ime. Neither man Uvm- bea'>t is diiven o\it ot' his wits by eoaches, carts, waijgons,
\Mm\ibuscs, i;ip;. chaises, phaetons, cabs, trucks, boys, \vluH>pin_i;s, ronrinijs, and
ninltitn<'.es. No tail-twisMnj; is neeess.vy — no iron pritns^int; is necessary. There
;\rc no iron pronj;s here. The market for cattle is held as iiuietly as the maikcl
for calves. In due time, otY the cattle [;o to Taris ; the ilrovcrs can no more
choose tneir road, nor tlieir time, nor the numbers they shall drive, than they can
choose their lu-iur for «lyini; in the course of nature.

Sheep ne\!. The sheep-pens are up here, jwst the Ihanch l^mk of Taris
ostaMishcd for (he convenience of the butchers, and bchii\d the two jnctty foun-
tains they are makins; in the Market. ATy name is I'-nll : yet I think 1 should like
to see as good tw in fountains— not lo say in Sniithfield, but in I'.ngland anywlierc.

'Illl'l ;it!i| InoK
OiHl' III nil' I "
'III! lilt' '^IihK.
isllt's tilt oIIh'I

III llif ;)ii(lsl
1'I da^eil linh.

Ii» I ( il('!;(>il(\

I'lavr iiiliinis !

'"( I lie r.'iisi-'l
ii'l <Ir\l(MiiiisIy
111!' c;i!v(N,
"I M'l.l, \\ lipi),

this nimlc (>(
!•', i^ not (|iiili;
nl;Uii)iiR ill |lu»
•'viMi icinntoly
I) yininli-Iicni',,
In ; Iviic'i"^, iinl
I iIk' horse nl

po-fil (o I);i\(<

liii'^t inr, lis I
Ciilr iipdii liis
nif lo |);iss ?"

i[;('is, t;\ir and

over IliPsc lop
("ns, <M|( nC |li,<
Uy '^cntiy-liox,
■^ronis (() live ;
K'. in llio loiir
. I'M llial is jiii
sliouM get It)
lal out, wlnlo
il" \\c iiilVinge

I inlo posts of
-I I ho sj.\-oii(|
N, thawincr ili,>
>m ; piciily of
Its, wai;g()iis,
ruaiinjts, and
ssnry, 'riu-te
s the nuvikct
can no tnoro
han they can

ink ol* Tinis
' jiretty romi-
I should lilvo
id anywhere

7//(^ /U'liffoir of l\f<^iilfliiitlir.

.^Q'?

I'lt'iily of fonni : plrntv of fiinr. And hrrr .irp shrcp f1o^=:, <;pn<;itilr ns ever, but
u itii a (I'llniii I' rein li iiir alidiil Ih' in not withonl ;i mtspn ioii of dnniiiiois--- vvilii
a hind nf M;i\oni nl inoii .i.m In- ;uid lie, lid d< ni' >nsl ml ivp dof^cj, '-liaj.;j.;y and lo(»se
whrir iui l^n^hNh dii}- would Iji- lifdil and i I'p-r not ^o lioulil'd with laisine-;-;
< ah idalioii'; iis nur I'aifdish dntvci.-,' dn^^, who have always ^'ot thtii >h('<p iiiioii
iheif minih, niid tliinl; rdpniit iIm ii wnil;, rvrii resting, n"; you may see hy their
(aies ; lail. 'lashiiif^, showy, imIIm i innchidih' dnj^s ; who ini^tit worry me iiisfcjid of
iheii li-jdtiniate (hater's if liny ^J^\v (ii(a--i'iii joid mii;lil acv il ^^oiik what suddenly.

'Ihc inaiket tor ^hefp passes oil like the nihrr Iw'i ; and away thf\y ^o, hy llnir
alli)|trd if»ad Im I'aii;. My wav l"'inj.; lli-' iJ.ailway, ( inak'' IIh- best of il nt
I wt'iil V inih's an hour; wlnilni^ ihioMidi tlir lurw hi|.;li liidiird land-rap'-; thinlviiiL;
ihal the inr<,|icii(aM rij j^uM'ii laids will he wi-.liiiij^,', in loiff Iniif;, they liad not heeii
Innplt'd 1(1 (iinu' nii; so Ronn ; and wondering who lives in this or that ehalenii, all
window and laltirr, and ulial the lamily may have for lueakfist this shnrji
nininin},'.

.Aller the IMaikel ( onies Ihe Altallnir. What ahalloir shall I visit first ? M(;nt-
inailre is Ihe larj^csl. So I will !;'» lli'-O'.

The aliallnii , air all wilh':i Ihc wall, of Paris, with an eye to Ihe receipt of the
"rlioi duly ; bill, they stand in open plates in the siihurhs, removed from the press
and JMistle of the ( ity. 'I hey are inanaj,'ffl l»y the- Syndicat or (liiild of I'utchers,
nndei the insperlioii of tlm Police, (rrtain sinalhr items f>f the revenue derived
(r un llieiii are in pail relaiiird hy the ('iiihl foi Ihe payment (»f their expen.ses, and
ni pail devoled liy il Ik (haiilaldc purposes in ((»iiiie\ion with the trade. They
eosl six iiundred aiul ei};lily tluMisand |)(juiids ; and they retiirii to the (ily (^f I'aris
an iiitefest on that (aitlay, ainunntiii}^ to neaily six and adiall per eent.

Mere, in a "-ullieieiitly di.inaiilled space is tin; Ahalloir of Monlmarlre, c(>vcrin^
nearly nine aeres of j^rouml, surrounded I>y a hif^h wall, and lookinj^ from the
outside like a cavalry hariai It. At llf iron i^ates is a small fiiiu tionaiy in a larj,";
cocked hat. "Monsieur (hvsires to see the ahattoir? Most ceitainly." State
beinj; inconvenient in private traiisat lions, and Monsieur heiiif^' already aware of
the cocked hat, Ihe Iuik lioiiaiy puis il inlo ;i little official bureau which it almost
lilh, and a((ninpani(s inc in llic modest -iltire as lo his head -of ordinary life.

Many ol tli'- animals Ikmii Pois,>y have ^oiiie here. ()ir the arrival of each drove,
il Avns turned iiil(» yonder ample space, where each butcher whf> liad bought,
selected his own pun liases. Some, we see now, in these lon^ ]<erspectives of
stalls with a hifdi ovcihaiij^in^ ro(<f of wood and open tiles risirif^ above the walls.
While they rest here, before beiii}^ slaiijditered, Ihey are required to be led and
watered, and the stalls must be kept clean. /. stated amount f;f fodder must
always be ready in the h»f| above ; and the supervi-^ion i^ of the striftest kind,
'I'he same re(;ulalions apply lo slieep and calves ; for which, p»;rtioiis of these per-
spectives are stioiifdy railed off. All the Iniildiiijis arc of the .strongest and nif;:st
solid description.

After tiaveisiii}^' these lairs, lhioii;;li wlii(h, besides IIk" np])'"r {provision for
ventilation just mentioned, there may be a Ihorongh current ot air from (;j)positc
windows in the side walls, and from doors at either end, we traverse the broad,
paved, court -yard until we come to the slau{^dilerdiou-.e->. They are all exactly
alike, and adjoin each other, to the number of eight or nine together, in blocks of
solid building. I-et us walk into the first.

It is lirmly built and |)aved with stone. It is well lighted, thr>roughly airerl,
ami lavishly provided with freshwater. Tt has two dor»rs opposite each other;
the lirst, the door by which I entered from the main yarrl ; the second, which is
opposite, opening on another smaller yard, where the sheejj and calves arc killed
on benches. The pavement of that yard, T see, slopes downward to a gutter, for

X

' I

lis^^'.l

Ih.f:

i

l^ Si

^06

^/ AfiUnnmnf \]f Ftnuh /v//\\

h<; li('in<; inniv onsily ilransiil. 'IIh- sliiti^lilci -Iiiiikc i^ (iClceMi (eel liijuli, sixleni
Icrl Mivl :i h,\ir widi', Mud lliiily (hicc fcrl liiniy ll is fillcfl willi a pnwciriil
wind 1,1 -^, l)\ uliii ll oMP in:ni nl I In- IimiuIIc ( an liiiiif; Ihr ln-ad nf an ok down to I In
^loiind (o n'ccivc thr Mow (Vnni l!ir polc-axc thai is (o (rll liiin willi llu; nicaiK:
of raisinj; llic rairnss and Ucrpini' i( stisprndrd ihn,inL» llic arU'i-opcration o(
drc^sini;- and willi liooKs on wliitli 1 anassrs i an lianii, wlicn complclt'lv pirpaitti,
willioiil Inmliinn Ihrv.alls. I 'pon (lie pavcinrni o( llii; (imi ';loiic tli:iinliii, jif
an o\ mani'h dcul li I im rp( llir Mnnd diaininc, (loin liini, iiilo a lilllc slom
well in a coinci ol llir p;ui inriit, llu- plai c is lire lioin olTmi c as llic I'lai r dc la
("oiuindi'. ll is inhniU'lv pinn and (Iranri. I Kmwx. itiv liiiiid llir Inm liniini v,
tlian ihr ( 'nllifdral ol Noln* I )anii'. Il;i, lia ! Mon'-ictn is jilrasanl, IhH. Iinlv,
lluac \^ iiM^on. loi\ in wiial lio says.

1 look inio anollirr ol llioso slanjdilia lionsr<s. " I'ray rnlfi," siiys a 141 nllnnan
in Moodv bools. "Tliis is n rail I liav(> l<ill(-d lliis inoinin^. Ilaviiu^ a litllr
t inic n|'on ni\ hand-;, I ha\r ml and pnmhiiid Ihislaic I'lllnn in llir ( oals ol
his ,loniaih. ll \^ prrltv rnonidi. I did il lodi\(ii niyscH." " ll is liranlihil.
Monsiiaiv, the slan^hlt'na ! " I If lr|U nu> I have llu' };riiiijily lo say so.

J looK inio rows of slan^hlrt hoii,c<. In innnv, n-lail d('ah'r«?, who Imvo conic
hriv for \]w pniposp, arc nialdii^ bargains (or meal. 'I'licro is Uilliiifr nion^di,
ciMlainI\. lo saliale an nnnscd <'\r ; and llinc are slrainin^ r;inass('s ciion^h, lo
siifj^x^sl the r\]H-di('m'y ^'^^ ■^ (owl ;;nd salad (01 dinina ; lail, cvriywlicn', lliri(> is an
oidrih. (Iran, \\ (dl-sV'^lcMnal isod ronrmr o( woiK in pio^rcss lionihlr woil. a! the
1>< '^1. ll \oa plcam^ ; ImiI, 'o mm h llu' ij^ivalrr reason why il should Ik^ made Ihc
Ih'sI ol. I doni know (I Ihink I have ohsrivcd, mv name is I'lill) (hat a Tarisian
ol (he lowest order is paiiienlailv delieale, or (hat his natnie is leniaikalilc for an
inlinitesimal inl'nsiein ol' It'nu'ily ; hul. I do Know, mv polenl, };ravi\ and connnon
romiv(dline Si^nms, (Inil he is Coired, when at this work, (o snlimil liimseK to a
thoroughly i;o<id system, and' to imike an I'.n^lis^iman May heai lily ashamed ol yon.

11(M(\ wilhin (he walls ol the ^-ame ahatloii. in olliei roomy and ( iinimodions
Iniildini;^. are a jilaee I'oi- I'onveiliiu:; the fat into tallow and paekin^ it lor market -
a ]>kn-e tor eleansinj; .and scalding lahi's' heads and sheep s d'c^t a place lor pre-
]>aiinq; (ripe stables and eoaeh lunises hu the lnilr|i(as innmnerable eoiivenieiiees,
aidinq in the diminntion of i^lVensiveness to its lowest possible pi'ini, and the raising
of eleanliness and snperyision to their hiidiest. llem-e, all the meat that goes uiil
of the gate is sent away in eU\in covered tarts. And it every trade lonneilcil with
the slanghtering w'^ animals were obligi'd by law te) be carried on in the same
plavc, 1 donbt, my friend, now ii instati'd in the cocked hat (whose civility llies(^
Iwvi (ranes imjierlecdy acknowK-dge. bu( appear nnmi("ic<Mi(ly (o repay), wlnihei
there cindd be beKer i-egnla(ions (han (hose which aii' carried on( at the Abattoir
of Mon(niar(re. Adieu, my friend, (or I am away (o (he odici side of Paris, (o the
Abattoir oribenoUe ! And (luae I ("nid exacily (he same (hing on a smaller seal(%
vi(h (he a>ldition of a magni(ic(ai( Ai(e^ian well, and a dilVercnt sort ol condnelor,
in (he i^erson of a neat li((le woman wilh neal Utile eyes, and a neat lidle yoice,
\yho picks her uea( litde way anumg (he bullocks in a very nca( lillle pair of shoes
and s(ockings.

Such is (ho Aronumon( of l-'rench h'ollv which a fiu-eignocring ]icople liavc
cvec(ed, in a national haded and anl"~'a(hy tor common counselling wisdom. That
wisdom, assembled in the City of 1 . ..mi, ha\ing distinct Iv relused, alter a. didiatc
of throe da\s Kaii', and by a majorils' o( nearly seven (o one, (o associa(c i(self vvi(h
,any Motr<ipolitan ('a((le-Marke( unless U be heUl in the miilsl of (he (*i(y, i(
follows tha( wo shall lose (ho inos(iinablo advantages of common counselling pro-
tection, and be thrown, for a maiko(, on our own wretched resources. In all

C.l.'t islmdi-Ttrc Ftuit,

3^7

t'l liiiili, sixteen

\illl ;l iMiWl'lflll
"V ilnwil Id |||(

will) (III' iiicdir;
l<'l (ipfiMlinii nl
'Irlrlv |'lr|,!i|c(l,
"' (IkumIk I, lie;

|» !i lilllr sliitic
: Ihc I'lilrr i\r I;,
llll' ("lllU linll;l|\',
■:;lMl, liiit, Inily,

|^'; !i L;('nllrMi;ui
I l!iviii}4 n jiiilc
in llie eonis n(
' l( is liraiiiidil.
y sii.

uliii lifive tnnu

viliiit^ (Mi(iii}.;Ii,

scs ('initij;li, lo

"'K', liuMi> is nil

le Wdlk (it llic

'I lie iiiiidc (lie

IIimI !1 I'iiiisinii

iiaiknliic (or nn

r, ;ili(l ((million

nil liiniscH" to n

'-ItiUlHMJ of yoii.

Ill ( oininodions
it Tor innikct —
I pliue (or pre-

V I'onvrniciucs,
and llir raising

I llial };o('s (Mil
loniH^ilcd wilh

II in llio sainr

V livilily llies(^
epay), wliellu-i
It liir Alia It oil
'I I'aii;, lo lh(>
1 smaller scale,

I til eoiultielor,
i( lit lie voice,
I' pair of shoes

; people lifive
vi'dom. 'I'lial
alter a. dc^halc
iatc itself with
r liio City, it
nnsellin}^ pro-
III CCS. Ill all

liiiman prohahilily W' sliall llms ((imc, at last, (o erect ,'i iri'inMrri'iit of f'lHy vf^ry
like lliis I'icikIi moiiimienl. irilial lie d'inc, llie < 'in^e'|iieri( es aie oKvioiH. '/'fi<'
lealliei liMd< v/ill lie iiiiiicl, liy flir- inli'idm lion of Ameritan (irrilier, lo !»'• maim
facliio'd inio shoes foi the fallen I'aiLjIish ; III'' Lord Mayor will l»<* rer,'iire(l, hy the
popular voi( (', lo live enliiely on f('»^s ; and holli (hose ( hnn^es will (how, is iiot
Ml present (jiiilc ( lear, liiil ( eriainly somehow oi other) fall on that miliap[iy Inride'l
inlorc'sl whiili is filways hciiiij killed, yet is always fotind f(; he alive— and kicking.

^sf^i^^*-^ ".^-^^^

A ClflU.STMA.S TKKK.

F iiAVr heen .ookintj on, this eveniiifj, at n merry company f>r ( hlldren ,T«;<;pmh1pr]
round lliat prefly (ierman toy, a (diristmas Tree. I he free was plantcfl in tfu^
middle ol a great round lahle, and lowered high nhove their heads. It was
brilliantly liidited liy a nmltitnd(> of liltl(« ta[»ers ; and everywhere s[>arkled and
glilleicd with In iidit fihjei Is. 'I'liere were KKy-cheeked doll-^, hiding behind' the
green leaves; and llieie vveie real watt lies (with movahle hands, at least, and an
endless capacity of lieing woiiixl up) dangling from inmimerahle twigs; there were
l''rencli polished lahles, (haiis, hedsteads, wardrohes, eigfit-day clocks, and
various other ailit les of dome-rK hirniliire (wonderfully made, in tin, at VVolver-
haiii|)lon), perched amotig the houghs, as if in preparation for some fairy house-
keeping ; there werp jolly, hroad-faced little men, much more agreeat/ie in
ajipearaiKc than many leal iiien ainl no wonder, for their heads took off, and
sliovved them to' he liiirol sugar pjiims ; (heie were fiddles and drums ; there were
tawihomines, hooks, work hoxes, paint hoxes, sweetmeatdjoxes, peep-shf>w f)Oxe%
and all l.inds of hoxes ; there were trinkets ff»r tlie elder girh, far brighter than
any grown up (^nild and jewels ; there were liaskets and pincushions in all de-
vices ; there were giiris, sw(;rds, and haiiners ; there were witclie.s stanfling in en-
( hauled rings of |)asfebonrd, to tell fortunes; there were teetotums, hunriming-tops
needle eases, pen -wipers, smelling hollies, coriversation-( ards, houquet holders;
real fruit, ma(le artificially da//lmg with gold leaf; imitation apples, })ears, and
walnuls, crammed with surprises; in slifjrt, as a pretty child, herore me, delight-
edly whisjiered to another jiretly ( hil ),l)er hosorri fiiend, " 'I'liere was everything,
ami more." This motley (ollection of odd objects, clustering on the tree like
magic fruit, and flashing back the bright looks dire( ted towards it from every side

some of the diamoiul-eycs admiring it were hardly on a level with flie tai>le,
and a few were languishing in timifl wonder on the bo .ms of pretty mothers,
aiinls, aii'l nurses -made a lively real'^ation of the fancies (>f chijdhoofl ; and set
me tliinkiug' how all the trees that grow and all the things that come into
existence on the earth, .have their wild adornments at tliat well- remembered
time.

Heing now at home again, and alone, the only person in the bouse awake, my
thoughls are drawn back, by a fascination which I do not care to resi t, to my
own childhood. I begin to (onsider, what do we nil remember best upcm the
braiielies of the (hrislm.'is Tree of our own young Christmas days, by wliich we
cliinl)cd to real life.

Siraighl, in the middle of |,]ie room, crampe:fl in tlie freedf>m ot its growth f )y no
encircling walls or soon-reached (ciling, a shadowy tree arises ; anri, looking up
into the dreamy brightness of its top — for I observe in this tree the singular

i

'A\

t

my

m

tort

/f Chi\fffi,n f)rr.

y\^i\\r\\\ [\\\\\ i( rlpiWltf* to JJIiiW ilnunw ml lnwunl^ llli- tvlltll ■• I Innl; ililii )nv

yonnri^sl rhci^tiuits V('rolloc!ioM<» !

All Im ^ n1 Cn-I. 1 liM>l. I'p \khiIim, nMimuj '1*'' I!"'*'*' I"»llv nii I icrl Ittriii-s. j;
till' I'liniMci Willi liis ImiiiU in hi; piit l<i l .. who \\iiu|iln'l lir t|i>un. Itiil wlu'iicvfi
Ih' \\\\-. |M\I npi>n ihc Iln(>f, nt^iHislcil in mllinj^ hi^^ l;it l-oilv nl'i'iii, nniil lie tnjlcil
hiin^K slill. Miiil iMiMij'hMliosc l(»lvi(i'i t'\ cm n| Ills In Ivmi npon mr \\\\v\\ I iillctlril
1t»|;n\!;li \ri\ MU\i!\. Iml in nn hrml n| lii-nil'^ wii-; rxlMMurlv (jiinliiliil "l lijiu, r|n.ic
bcsiiif liin' i"< thni inlrn\;\l ynnll hn\, (»n( ol whirli llii'ic spmnij; w <lrmi»ni!i( mI
( oini'^cllov in ;) l>I'<'l< ^i»\\n, with ;n\ olinnvimi; hi'ul nl Imii, uml ;i it'i|(lMi||
wiiMilh. wiih- open, who w:is nol (o 111' cnihu'il on n\\\ Icini.. Iinl innM not he
y\\\ \\\\\\\ K\\\\v\ ; loi he \\A.vy\ ^niM.-nh. in w hi('hlv in;ii.Miilii''l sliilr, to lly oiil
ol Miuwniolh SnnH boxt's in <lu'!\n\s. when U'lisl rx|i('rtc(|. Noi i^ lht> hot) with
ri^hhh i"'; w ;u on hi; liiil. liu oH ; loi iIhmi' wm^ no Knowini; whcit' hr woiijihi'l
jump; iind when \\v ll< w o\ji the r;\n(llc, nml vwww \ipon onc'^ hsinil with lh;ii
spoitoil h^y•V M'<1 on rt j^vocn pionntl he \\i\^ honihio. Thi' riinlltoiinl l;nlv in ii
bino '.ilK ^kiil. who wjis stood np nijainsl thi- r;\inllrstiik t(» «lniut', mid whom I sre
on iht' v,\n»<' lii!inrh. w;\s tnildin, ;\nd w;is Ivmilirnl ; bnl I i :in'l suv ik nnn h lor
\\w hnt^o) r;nd bo;\id m;\n, who n^cd to \\v hmiL; ;));;nnsl ihr \v;dl nnd piilh-d l>v Jt
slvini; ; ihnc wns i\ sinislcc rxpic^'^ion in that no-;(> ol hi^ ; :ind w hrii hi> i;ol hi*;
It'^K \oiind his iuhK (w'hi( h he ww i^lti n didi. he was fdiustly. and iio| w iri-nlnic
to W nloui^ Willi.

\Vhi>n did i!-al dirndinl Mask lit -I look at inr ? Who pnl ii (in. and why wns I
so fiifditonrd lliai tho si^ht ol it i. an na in niv lili> ? It is nol n hidt'ons visum-
in ilsidl"; il is «'\»m^ nu-anl lo li(> droll ; why llirn Wimc its stolid h'alnrrs st» in-
to'iMahlo? SnirU not lH-v-ans(> it hid the wtntci's (arc. /\n apmn would have
done asnuuh ; and though 1 --lioiilil ha\r piclcnrd cxcii the apion awav. il would
nol have Wen ahsoluh Iv insuppoiialilr, like IhiMnask. Was il Ilu> imniovaltilily
ol tho mask ? \'\w doll's lav*' was immovalih\ hnt I was not aliaid ol fyn .
IVvhaps that fixed and sol rhnn^c romins; ovn a real ku c, inlusrd into my
quirkonod hc;iit sonuMomoto suj',i;oslion and dr(M\d ol the universal ihaiimr Ihal is
\y\ ronu^ on cxcxy lav'o. and make it slill'.' Nolhini; rrronriI(Ml mo to il. No
tlrum.uovs, from whom pioooodod a nulanoholv rhnpiuf^ on tho Imninjj ol a
liatulh' ; no rof;itnon1 ol soldiots, with a mute band, liikon out o( a l>o-<. and lillod.
ono hv ono, upon a still and la;'V lilll<> sol ol Ia7V loiij^s ; no old Wtunan, niado of
wiros and n brow n )^ap(M■ oomposiiion. oulliu}; up a pio lor Iwo small ohildicn ;
rould jMvo n\o !\ povnianonl oondcnl, ("of a lon^ tiuu\ Noi was it any satisfaotion
to bo shv>\vn tho Ma-k. and sec- ihal it was mado ol" papoi, or lo liavo il hnkod uji
nnvl be assuKMl tliat no ono woro it. Tho more vooollootio-u ol Ihal lixod laoo, Iho
move Knowlodf;e ol its ovisttMUo anvwhoro, was sulhoiont to awako mo in tho nij^hl
all peixiMvation and hornn\ with, " (M know- it's tomiiuj ! t> tlu* mask ! '

1 no\ or wondered what the doa\' old donkey with tho panniors — ihoro ho is!
wasmaileot, tlion ! His hivle was real lo tho louoli, I reoollool. And tho ^roiit
Maok lun-sc with tho vvn\nd red spots all ovor l\in\— the horso that I oonld even t;ol
upon — I never wondoiod whal had brouj^ht him lo thai stranf^^e condition, or
lbonj;hl that snoh a lu^rso was nv^l oommonly soon at Nowinarkol. 'Iho lour
hofsos ot no e»>lour, next to liim, that went into tho wa^j^on ol ohoosos, and oould
W taken o\\\ and stablod under (he piano, ajipoar lo liave bits ot" rur-tijipcl lor
their tails, and other bits lor Ihoir manes, and to stand on poi.;;s instead til" ioj.^s, but
it was not so when they were brv>ui;ht honu^ lor a (.'hrislmas prosonl. They woro
all vij;bt, then ; neither was their harness unoeremoniously nailed into their chests,
as a]>]vai-s to be the ease now. The tinUlini;; works ol" the musio carl, I <//f/ find
out. U> be made of quill toolh-jiieks auvl wire ; and 1 always lhoui;hl that lit lie
•tumbler in his shirt sleevos, perpelually swarmini; uj) one side ol a wooden Irnnio,

i

I l""l; inlii inv

I' 'I 1m 11 ii'^, \ ;

I'mI uIu'Iicvci

IIMlil lie liilli'.l
^^ lien I :ll)iM|<t|
"I IlilU. ( Insc
:l ili'UHMliiK 111
I'll ;l l('<| cImIIi
t I mild tlnl lie
llr. |i» llv nil!
- till- liM(i \\ ill,
I' III' winiMii'l
liiiml will) lli:ii

"Villi |;|i|y ill II

mil uliiim I m-c
IV ;h mm li |tii
ii'l pnlliil l»v !i
ir|\ III- !;mI liis
lint il cliallllr

Mill I wliy Avn^ I
I liiilrnii'^ vimim'

li'ulmi's si> iii-
I'M wmilil have

inv;iv. il winilil
U' immnvuhilily

iiliiiiil ul Arr.
il'iisnl iiiti) my
I vimn^r Ihat is
ino li» it. No
.^ turniiif^ t»r M

ImiV. ilMil lllltMl.

Diiiiiii, iiiivdc of
^inull cliildicM ;

miy salislniHoii
ivo il Inikcd il|)
I lixnl liicc, I lie
mo ill llic iiij^lil
musk ! "
1 — lIuMC lu' is !

And the ^rcal

could cvoii ,i;<'l
i' condition, or
kri. I ho foiii
escs, and could
I riii-tij'pcl lor

L\ul o\ loj;S, l)Ul

>l. They woiv
ito thoir chests,
oait, I (/fi/ find
UL;ht (hat lidlo
wooden IVnnie,

A

C// isfmns- Tree l/uwets.

r'9

nilM < nltll

iiMM .. Milium drtwn, head ("I'im".!, nn ihc dtjirr, r.illi'r a Wf.'ik rriindfwl pcrnon —
ihoiiidi ^ood-iialiiif d ; Iml llir- |;Hn|.'s ladder, iioxl liiin, tna<l(« of liHl<* S'lunrfs of
ird \Mtiid, lli;il Will (li|i|iiiii; aii<l I lalh liiii^ ov i iiiif anolli'-r, far li 'lcvfl<i|iiri),j a
ilillrrriil |ii(l(iii', and llio whole enliveii'd dy '.mill l»ell<, was a iiiijdily rnarv I and
a LMf'at «|tli|dil.

Ah ! 'I Ik- hull'; li.ifim' !~of whifh f wm^iimI |ii'i|iii( i^r, Iml wlierf f vi.it»'d.
I dfiii'l admire llif lloiises o| I'atliaiiiMil hail so mii' h as llial -.lone fronlfl
maiislnii wiih leal j^lass) windows, and door slops, and a real fiahony- greener
Ihan I ev«il- Hpe now, o.xcepi at vvalormj.j-pla< es ; and oven (lay afford lail a p(»or
imilrilion. And (hon(;li il ifii/ nuv]\ all a( oik e, |he onliro house front (which was
!i Mow, I admil, as carucilinf^ (he firliiiii of a slair(ase), i( was hut to shu( it up
aj'-nin, and I could lioiiovo. l',von open, (here wore throo dislirut rof»rns in it : n
tiilliiit^ room and hed luom, elij'inlly hirnishod, and host of all, a kilohcn, with
uiKonnnonlv mill ho iion,, a pl» nlihil assoitmenf of difninulivo utensils oh, (ho
warmini; pan ! mid a lin man ( ook in pmhle, who was always J^oin^j ((» \ry two
lish. VVhal HaimiMile jn^liie h,ivf> I «lone lo the riohio feasts whoroin (ho srt of
wooden plallois hiMiiod, eat h willi ils own pe(iiliai doli(a(y, as a ham or turkey,
filled (if^ht on lo il, and ^.onishoil with somelhin^r ^roori, which \ recollod as
moss ! (oiild all llu" 'IjinperaiK c .Sotirtios of (hoso later days, iinilorl, ^ivo rne
mi( Il a loa drinkinj^r as I have had lhr(Hii;h llie means of yonder littlo sot of hhio
noikorv, whi( h ro.illy would hold liijiiid (it r,in on, of the small wooden rask,
I Miolleil, and la-.led nf m;i(( lies), and whi' h m;ide Pa, ne( tar. And if (ho two
lej^'s of ihi' inolf«'(liial lillle su^ar-|r»n^s did timdde over one another, find want
purpose, like I'mK h's hands, whni rloe; it matter ? Arul if \ did on'e shriek out,
as a poi'-onod child, and strike the (ashionahio company with (onstern dion, l»y
rens(Ui of liavinf(diimk a lillh loaspoon, inadvortontly dissolved in Uiu hot (ea, I
was nevu Ihe w(use lor it, ex(('p( l»y a powder I

I'pon lh(> iKxl liratuhes of the (roe, lower down, hard l»y the ^'roon roller and
inimaline f;ardoninj^;-loo|s, how thick the hooks hej^^in lo h;in^'. 'Chin hooks, in
(homselves, at first, hill many of thoni, nnri with deliciously smooth covers of hri(^ht
led or ^Kon. What fat lilac k h-llors (o la'^in with I " A was ;in arcfior, and
.sho( at a liojj." ( i| c»airs(! Ik,' was, lie was an appIo-pi<: also, and there ho is !
IIo was n i^ood many things in his time, was A, aral so wore most of fiis friend?,
except X, who had ho little versatility, (hat I never knew hirn to ^ot heyf^nrl
Xerxes or Xantippo likr; V, who was always (onfined to a Yacht or a Yew 'free;
and /, (cmdonmf (I for evoi to he a /ehr.i (»r a /;iny. I'.ut, now, the very tree
itself chaiif^es, and hecontes a hean-stalk -(he marvellous hean-stalk up whiofi Jack
clind»od to |1k> (iiant's luaiso ! And iko.v, (hose dreadfidly interest inj,', draihle-
lioadod giants, with their diihs over flioir .shoulders, l)ejrm to stride alr>nf,' (he
Itoufdis in a perfec t (hron^r^ dr,a(,^f^in(,' knifdits and ladies home for dinner l»y the
hair of their heads. And jack -1 ow nohle, with fiis sworri f;f .sharpness, anrl
his shoes of swiftness I A^ain those old meditations corrio upon me as .' ea/c
up at him; and I dehate within myself whether (here was rnoro (lian one jack
(which I am loth to holieve possible), or only one genuine original admirable
jack, wIk» a( hioved all Ihe recorded exploits.

(iood lor Christmas time is the ruddy color of the cloak, in which- the tree
making n forest of itself for her to trip thro\igh, with her t^sket— Little Red
Riding Hood comes to mo one (Miristmas l',ve to give me information of the
cruelty and treachery of (lia( dissend*lin{,' Wolf who a(e her grandmother, without
making any impiossi'.n on his appetite, and (lu-n a(e her, after making that
ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first lf)Vo. I felt that if i could have
married Tattle Kod Kiding-IIood, I sluMild have known perfect bliss, i'.ut, it was
nut to be ; and there wus nothing for it but to look out the Wolf in the Noah's

I' h

■■'i-

lU

nn

/f ('/^>r»y»fffrr 7>vv.

\\^iM> )s\\\ \\\ ^ \\^\\\\\^l\ \\\\\ <.\\\<\ \\\r !inlnu»l't uiMr i iMniMH»«l In -ii ihn i.inf, tMiJ

iVt'U'.l )i» )vn.' ll\ri< Irnn v\ . II nld^hm iliMni Im'I'iMp IIii'v t '>llM I"' |tMl In, r^pti
0<<Mr :Mvl <h>-\i. 1" n lt\ 1 n«' \\\\\ \\\r\ l»i'P'\M li* linuMf mil <\\ \\\r .|mi»(. uMt Ii wn'.

h\\\ l0\p(>l1.i th 1\n1l'nrtl \,ilh -S \\\sr \W,\\ \\\\\ \\\\\\ WV\ M.?< ■II'MIM'II II I « .<||';|,|iM

t^iMVNMrlU, i\ ni?f« «^V h\i> «>i\villr( |lv(M lit.' t Irph'int ■ \)\i' \\'\\ l«li.l. llie liiiMcHlv

!\1) nlini\|M>^ ol ;^'t' 1 'niviili'l (III- pMiVM'. \< ho'ii' lir-l \M'|i' •' mmiH. ;l(iil nltn'.-

hi\),U^rO \\;>>v <;i^ in«l\lV( I lUl, \\\\\ hi* U''IV\|I\ InnO'ltMl Imniml. iUnl l(l|i»rl(i<i| .In«t»

rtll \]\r ^\\\\\\^^\ {•\v:\\'\\^\\ \'\^wMv) N<^>\\\ uml \\\'\ IrMnllv, IH'f Minllf inlvi»-it»

M^^^^^^^M*< \ <\\\A t\i>\\ \\w ltM^i\\iil iUlil I" \\\\\\\ iHlli' liH|M'i': j mii<I Ikmv lltr InlU nl
Un-^n ! \j;"M\> w fovr-tl, nnil 'i'mi'lM»i|\ njt in m lifi> n.>t llnMn llmxl, nut

ir iO\i' lln>nvirlvt"i lnti» It mil Id)'! nl 'lilnj) f

\ AliMMinr, W^y \\\i* N rllow < h\ in I (I l>\\.' (-V'TiI Mm -ntil ill "Mnllti-i ll|inrlr'<
\\>M>ilr<-A. \\\tho\n inrtnio»>|, \'\\\ '.\\\ V:\''\t'\\\ Kinji willi n i;lilliMh\|i linillMi rnul

t\\0>;^\v \\\ \\\.\]\ ' i\<»> r!\'»i>n\ 1\inii'5, \\\\ I r,-,« MnnllnM. |i<i»l(lnp miM lili

^l^^uli^'TV ! 1 V\\\n n|>oM tl^r jMi^-.i. !>1 tlm Hrn'>5 loi>|. Urn tin* lull |rn|itli<'l •) ctinl
h\M\ \y\M\\. ^\\v\\\\v\\ '.\<-\i^ry, \\\\\\ In". In-tnl \\\ >\ l-nlv"; l'i)M ""'I ni'ii )lir<ni I't -i
j));^<.t ^^^^. i;V'-trno«\ With r»Mn li^rlc! ol "sliininp '«u>i'l, in nliirit In* l(nf<|<< (hf hilv
\M1-;>M>»M \\l\in \\\' \o. ■.\\\\\\ki' \ "si'i' (ln> {\\\\\ hv\-x -il nis tiinllr* mnv. I'lu' l-nlv
n'l.AVo* Mj>i>^ t\> iho 1^v^^ 1<inj,)'5 in ilif i\i( , nhn ';.>0l\ ili-mi-nil. I' f 'In* Mi<iilnj^ in

V^h, \>«>\v [>]\ \•^y\^\\'\\\^\\ \1nniV'? l>i'in\nr \n\tinnnion ;n\il cinliMnl. d Im tni'. All
1;>m|'"v ;xn- \^>^n^^Mi\^l t i>il y\\\\\'^ rtVr l;\^isn^!1n•^. « onnnon llnwct puN ihp I'mII nl

l\'r:1*\nx\ WUU :^ UnloOiinh ■*\-;Ml>Mr(l on ll\«' top; lli<r'<» rlir Inl AH U ilvi (m Ititic in ;
KtI 'io;\V<; :>\v \\s \\\us\\ \\\A\\y into \\\v \ ■\\\i'\ ol I Miinnnirl';. llm) the pii'ilim:
«1xM>o«i n^;\\ "vMv K Vo tluM^>. ;>n<\ bi'i;inii'il bv (ln> i"M)lt'<! (o ll\rii nr"«(i. nlwiwf (In-
lAtXx^OV*., With lothi » vit";. \\\\\ -voilfn tluMn I'ut; :\w nv;nli\ rttroiijinn In llic »('fi|w
or tlv Niriov'-i '>o\> \Nt 1<n'5'>o\-;>h, \\hi> tinni'd prv.hvtonK ■\[\v\ In- un'« '•••I ilnnn in
his «hM\x>i-v^ ;\t \\\v ^i\\\'' ol \ V\n^;Kv ti-; ; »oM>lrV': ;m' .\\\ Mn';(Mnh:vi, imkI In I lie linhil
tM' !«.t*\\ 'ii\vi ti)" pi^>p]r \'\M into VxNtu jNi!V«'«;. lo wlnnn llnv mv l'n«t'n MinilliOtl.

\nv 'it\M> vn\i; U! iw^^ shM\o U tlu' rnn-,ui( •• to d inc wliiili only M-iil's Itn llii«
m.'V^ix i;li>. ;Mi\^ \W littlo i\\\\ 'AwA (ho n^l^•^^n>:nn\, \\\-M will nml<i- lln- linlh 'tlniho.
\\\ <h«' y^Mo^ ^\^^)^\^H^^I »-ow>o Innn iho <;;nno [wi^ ;ii thtil nnlni l(\ iliili', nilli wlm-tr
sWll \\w Wt-'XxhMW KuO\Koi\ o\t1 tho ovt' <M tho jivnir'-* iini^iMc son \ll uliyc.; nir
»M" tho sl\>oV, of \hM iW'-h iVnit. i\M>»onnnp, whiih llnM 'nnnntinliM nl llu- Iviilhliil
\>\v\ho,-i\N^ tho Isiv ^•x^n^h\^ 1 tho ti>nt^\Nn'; \\\:\\ ol il\o liiuiilnlonl olivt- nn-nhnnl ; mII
:v^^^^V^ rtw rtV'iW ^^ iW .-^pplo pnu'lvux^l (w itl\ two oihiM**) Inn^i lln' StillMn'^ wMnlnuM

fox (h^W Vx\^\>'ins !\>><^ Whu)^ tllO t;\ll M;\i-K ««l;tVO vttolo I'nnn \\\r ( Itilil, \ll ilni'i

rt'.x^ :^«.^^vi■^h^^ Nxilh tho »IvNi^, \-<\\11\ a \v:\\\^\\y\\\\rA ntnn. who jninpiMl npoM tin-
1^A<M^ \Vnnt<M\ nn»\ vnt hi^ p;nv on (ho pii^o o( }y.\\\ nionov. All >irr in nils \\\r
n\V whiv^h (ho riNvtul irt»\v. who w :v> a j^honlo. ronl.l onlv poi K In r,i;nn'4, linnuso

^^'i hoV IVij^hllx tOAv(v h\ \W ImUvU pl.UO. M V \Xl\ |-0( V ill); llol SO, lllflO lu« [k,

\\i{\\ hi% TiostnK twn \\ ^^m^^Kio!\ mvidv- ont. i(\»ho;\iivo »>l lUood ! slh»ulil luwr !i
}Vji m his »tvV. hy vivnio nmY>\>( (o \\\ i\\\(w \\\\\\ ww, ns (ho wooden hnmr iliil
>viih ;ho Tnnvv \>l" iVi\i;^. n\ tho si.^ht \M ;ill hi*^; l;\thoi's ("oinl.

Vov. on ovxM'V «>bitvt (hc\( \ nvojjinvo unn^no \]\o<ii'' npppi hinmlios ol my
i'hriMiT>f»N rr<v. 1 mv (his (Anv Ui;]u ! \\ hon I wivKo in bo>l, nl ihivhicuk. on llu>
vvW x^;5rk wintov wovniujix. tho wh\(x^ m>»iw dnnlv bohohl, o((tsiih\ Ihion^li ihc liosl
tW (ho ^^inv^^^\v^^•^ni\ 1 Ihmv lMn:U7;\>h\ *' Si'.loi. sis((M, il voii nw yv\ i\wiil<(\ I
pvAV Vvva fini ii (no histvuy ot \ho Vovn\j; Ki(\}; ol iho U\;\\\< Nhiiuls. "' Sihohnn/inlc
rcnik>s, '* limy lOixi tho S\U(;ut will s\ilVor nvo to lix-r rttuxhoi- \lav. sister, I will no'
»Mnty finish ih.M, ^n( tcW >\Mi a m\>\\- woivlovlul sU>ry vol." 'i'hoii, the gnxcious

Mu,

>M>Ub«aiaad

I'.hfittfftii lirr I lr,itiiiii/i.

W

Mil oivtwiMlliy

'l)i» liinf, rm,l

" |»hI In, rvrtt

"I, ultli l» WflT

ll ! ' illl'sllIlM
. Ilin 1. 11(1,. til,

til. :itti| uliiii-
MinrluMl t|tMV»»

li'tlir IdIvK'I'M

iMt lid' I'llh III

il ; mI ' I( i(i|i •

in MiiMil, »)Mf

(lltci Mmmi l)'<

I imitii Mtiil

(inp Mvnt hl'i

ml It I'l '1 civil

mil llii'iii il 'I

fr-|»'! ||ii> Imlv

MV. riu' I'lilv

ill" illinp ill

I 1.1 nil.. All

Mil'! ;1lt' lull n\

ilin In liiilr ill :

I fill' I'lrrllill'!
itl, \\ lll'llif (III*
l|l (m (III' ll'ii|ii'

I't 'ii'l ilnnn in
ikI ill I III' liiilii(
ikIImIiI

V M lit'; Inl (III'

ir ivll ill '^lljlld',

II', willi wlinsp

\ II i>li\ I"; 'iif

I'l llii' I'liilliliil

IllrH llillll ; !||l

ll:in' I r,'iii|i'iii'i
ilil, All i|i»ij'i
\pnl upon (lie
liri' icriijls (ln»
L;iiiiii-i, liiTiiiim*
thi'ii" lir 1:.
'<lhnilil Imvp II
mU'H lunm* iliil

iini Iii''< III my

Vl>ll'!lk. (Ill llu'

ii)iu;li (he liiisl
' yrl luviikr', I
!-l»li('l)rrn;?iiilc
sU'i. I will not
), (lie j;ri\i;ious

I

iiiliiM ftfifn Mitf, ftiiMfift tin MfdcfM f<i( (df rynvwWitU, fin'l w^ nil Within fff^fffnA

•l|»Mltl

A I (lil'i lii'i|ilil (if my (fpf. f (if<(f|fi |rt i;cc, i'(vfii't\tw firnOfifj ihf {''nvf. if ruiy fir;
Imfii m| (iiiImv, ftf «i( )iii>l'|i(i|f, (If (riiiM '• (ii", 'If 'if \\m'J' ffrmy f if i":, |'i'rifiW'/|
witli I'lihiii iiM « iii'idc nil III'; »lrirft I Infi'l, riiili|i ^/unrll nfn'irij' fli»' rri'ifikcy^,
Mniiillniil fill, I Mcrfiiji wi»|i Mr. Mnrlnw, MnMi^r (liifM d, nri'l ffif lvTn«;l< or if ffi?i/
lir tit" ff'iiill III iii«li(',-i,(i,)f), n<f«i<<lr>i| liy Ifiin^jirinliiifi rtfi'l (iVfT 'I'X toriffg a prri-
'llftlnii^ iil|,liliiiii,' (( In fiM frc'fwliiijjy ifi'lijf ificf, (lint \ 'iMfi'l I: nrnV //liy if =i
IrlfiliMiil lull I Imimw if i'l \ fill /inly rriril-f 'ii|t ffinf il i^ «fi ifiirnrrm" .trr-iy of
ilin)">lr"iM llilMuq, wliii It ft|i|Kii f<i II, |.|nrif''l 'inn vnif '"fnK^*'rnt|Mfi ',f lli/' Iw/y-

Imiimi; (lii( iMf.if Id lir.'il (lie (.ly :fil'lic| ;, nfl'l ('• I"' I'l.vl/ ' 'ifriMiJJ ( l'(U' fo ffl/ fy"<«,
•iii'i ifi'iliiu; (<i fiM iiiiiiirn'i'nnliW' /li'ifnfWf WIimi if ( 'irnr-^ clo^c^f, if Ij WorHt.
hi fiiMtifrflitii Willi ll I (Ifqrry r«'m''fTilirfifirf'q of winf'T riftWil i jnff<vlililv l(«ri^ ; <rf
lii'iiH' ■ji'df I'lily f" lt»'»l. nc! ri |iiiiiisli»(i«'iil fdf ;f,rfii^ dfriill nW'W'', nw\ .V ikirifj iri fwo
lliiiii:. wKli fi ';i'li«:filinii (if lifiviiii; lic'-ii I -.Icfii fw't fii(»lif • ; nf ffic hdcfi li',(,'l^'<-«ri('S<i
(ll iiiMMiiti|i fviT iI'Mviiiiif' • find fli'< ,iiipf(";'',((,n of fi Wfi(;lif of rfrn,if<;c.

Ami ii'iw, I nr.(' n WMii'lcffiil rmv n] liol" liidit-. riflf drno^ffily oiit of llif» f/roiiri'l,
lic|,iir« ri V'i'if (itcf'ii ( iitlMiii NdW, n lull rifij;; i rfi;ii/i'- li"|l, vvIimIi still -^'nind-i
ill iiiy »"ii'! iiiilil ,' fill nfli' I Ik I| ; nifl fr,ii-i' |'lny-:, nrrii'l-f n \i\\ff of voi"'.'., nnd ,i
liitMititf Mil' II III (irft»i|»(' |iffl nri'l (lil. Aip'iii, flic fmj/ic lic|) c^irfimnn'l^ flic rnti««JC
In cfMit;!', iiii'l flic jjicril jjrcfii ( iirfriifi rolU if';r>|f nn rrin|c -.f m r»lly| ind llif f'hy
lici;iii'! I I lie dcviifcil t\ny 'if M'lnftrj'i^ ivcri((r-, (lif d^nfli of liii rnnit'T, ffrtilly
niilidi'icd ill (lir |'OfC'?f nf (Inii'ly ; nri'l :i Inirfi'iroti-; f'cnsnnf With ' rc'l lUr*^ ,ind
I vci V lilil" lifti, vvlmm I fnl'" (r"iri iliiti li'mr ('irth (9 rrry fifr^'rrri «s n fri'-n'l {\ thinlt
III' U(t'! ti Wnilci or nil n,i^ll<'i fil 1 villnt/'- (nn, Imf many y.ir-, Imv wm-;'-'! -sinrf
lie Mild I liftvi- iiicl), rcfiiiil?^ Hi if flif -.n'^,;i(^n • ;i(y r.f ffinf doj^ i; iri'l'v-'l •.(irprisini/ ;
■iiid ivcMiiMi' flii<; jociilni ('iiircif will livr> in rriy rr<rrieml'rnnc fr''sh and nnf;»dirijj,
<tvcilii|i|ilii)t nil iKiti'iililc )(il<c;, iinf'i flif- cfi'l (,f tirri", ' 'r u'v», f Iffirn vvifh l/iftff
Ic'ii'i liMw |i(i,ir Ifinc Sdiorc, 'lir- -(I nil in wliifc, nn'l witli )u:t }tri>wn fi;iir hfnitiirijlj
'I'uvii, wciif '•.ffiivln({ flir(iii(di ilic «;frcffs( ; (>r liow itf<iri',f fl'^rnwcll kilird \hn
Wdifliicl nil' ]<• lliil cvci ninn Im'l, nri'l wns nftTwnf' !■; ^o^'iorry for it Hiaf ho C/ii^hf
In liMvc lif'cii 1(1 'ill ( (iincii <;wiff f'» cornforf inc, fli'- I'.trit'Frriirnc ^itnp'^ndfjiis
I'licmniicmut I wlicii ( I'l.vri!! ;\ri' «;}if,f from londr'l rnr;rtiirs info tlt'^ j/r'^nt
, liiimli lici, !iii|dil ( 'in Icllnli'iii ilinl if k J wh^n f farlc/iiMn«t, (•''rvfirrrd ftll ovT wifh
iimIc; III |iiiic I'lild, lwi';l nnd i.|irirl<lc, lil<f' nrni/iriL; fi ;n ; whf'n f'-rntjiloon (wh(im
I deem il (Id iiicvreiMe fn ((»rn|;nrc in rny f»wn mind lr» my (/randfjith'^r) put-i rr-'l-
lin( |i(il<em in his (loi kff, nnd < ri'*-; " f jcrc'-. sorncho'ly ((truiuj^l'frr faxes fh^
< lovvn willi |ie(lv Ini, cny, l,y snyinj^, '* Now, f ^nwr■'l yon do if ! " when F/Vpryfhir>({
iq ( !i|i ililr, Willi llic j;i(Mfc-,f CM^f, of lifiiij^ f li;ifi(y"l inf(» Anyfliinf/ ; ^n<^l " N'ofhinjiJ
iy, lull (liiiilsiii}; mnl'.cs il ^o." Now, f"o, ( pcr'cive my fir-if oxp'^ricnc of fhe
dicucy spjmn'lon nllcn In return in ;ifl' r life of l;finjj nnal/k, next (^lay, to jjct
liiie|< (,, (he dull, > ell I'd w'irld ; (,f w;intifij{ t'» Ir/c if,T fvi^r in the hri^jftf atm'' /sphere
I linvr i(iiillcd ; nl drilmg (,ii (Jif lilf|e ( ;iiry, witli tlie wand like 'a (,eie=>tial P.;»ri»fir''»
rolr, nnd pinini; Inr n I'niiy imrn'irfnlity ,'iI(;tij; with her. Ah, -ihe corner i'/fick, in
iiKUiy ^llnpe'^, ns my eye wander'; down fhe hranc.hes f>f my '^.hri-vtmas Ti'ee, and
^(K"^ im (illeii, nnd lin, iievfr ycf ^Inycl |,y m/- I

< )iil of IIThi d' liylif -.prinj.;-; the t',y tlieatre, — there it i-», with i'H r;tnriiliar
prosci'iiiiim, nnd liidien in featheix, in flif hoxc^f -anrl all it^ attendant rx-xupatir/n
with pnsic nnd I'lne, nnd (nim, ,ind v/nter colors, in the f^ettinjij-iip r>f The Miiler
mid hit; Men, nnd r,li/;il»ff h, dr fhe l.xile of Siheria. fn spite of a (f-.w l>e-,cttin^
accidcnis and failure-; ([larf ienlarly an iinr 'aKrjnal/le disp'^/'iition in the re'spxictahlc
Krlmnr, nnd some (»ther';, to hecome faint in ttie lejfs, and (\fA.i\>\c. up, at e}fcitinj^
points of llu* (Iraniii), a tccrning world of fancies so suggestive and ail-embracir»g.

lli*fc *i III lull I own ill

3IZ

yl C hfistinas 7'rrr.

r , . I:

ff I

: fil

41 1 I !l

fli.it, far Im-Iow i» «>m niy ( hrislrim , 'Irrf, I srr d.irtr, lirfy, re! 'I'hratrrH in the
(lay liiiM', adornc'l Willi llic.c asvjtialioii'. as with iIk- frclic.l jjarlan'ls f»f llic rarc>l
llovvris, .iii<l ( haririmt; iiic yol.

Hut liirk ! 'Mic Waits arc playing,', arul tli»:y Urcak my <hiMi.|i shrp ! Wliat
itiia^^'c. do I a-vjcialc with the Thri -Irria ■ iini ,i( a. I -,(■«: them srf forth on ihr
( hii.tmas 'Vrvv't Known Ixfofc all tlir other,, keeping' f;ir apart from ail the
others, they );alhfr roinid my lilth: hcl. An ati^ci, Kprakin^; lo a j;roii|i (,f
shepJH'rrls in a fi'ld ; some travellers, with eyt-i nidifte'l, followin^j a star; a l»ahy

m

a nian(;( I ; a ihihl in a ■paeious temple, lalkinj; with {;rave irien ; -i sole

mn

(i|;nre, willi a nnl'l and IxMutihd lur, rai^injj a dead (dri hy thf: hand ; ajLiain, near
a city ^ate, callinjj hack the son r»f a widow, (.n liis l»icr, to life ; a crowd of t)ef)ple
lofikinj^ throiijdi the o|)f:ne(| roof of a < hamher wherr- he sit ., and hltinj^ d'»wn a
sick per .on on a hed, witii r(»j»es ; the ,ame, in a tempct, walk mjj on the water to
a ship ; a};aiM, ow a sca-shorc, t<:a( hm^' a ^'reat multitude ; a(,'ani, with a child upon
his knee, and other (hildien round ; a;.;ain, re.torinjj M/dit to the Idind, speech lo
the dninh, hearin^^ to the deaf, health lo the sick, strenj'.th to the lame, knowledjje
to the i|;noranl ; a;;ain, dyin;^ upon a T'ross, watched hy armed soldiers, a tliic k
darknc-ss < (uniiij^ «^ii, the eailh hejdnnin;; to .hakt, and only one voice heard,
•' 1'orj.dve them, for they know not what tliey do."

Still, «»n the lower and maturer branches of the Tree, Thrislmas assfjciations
(luster thick. School-hf»oks ^liut tip ; Ovid and Virj;il silenf(r|; the Rule ui
Three, with its cool impertinent inquiries. Ion;,' dispo se'l of ; T rente and I'laiitir;
acted no more, in an arena of huddled desks and fortn ., all chipped, and notched,
and inkeil ; ( rii ket hat ., '.tumps, and halls, left hij;h(;r nj), with the smell <S
trodden (.jrass and the softened noise of shouts in tl)e eveninj^ air ; the tree is still
fre-.h, '.till \n\y. II \ no more ((un<! home at (!hri .tmas tim(;, there will he hoy,
and ^'irls (thank Heaven!) wliiit; the World lasts; and they df> ! Yonder they
dance and play upon the branches of my Tree, dod bles;* them, merrily, and iny
heart dances and [days tr>o I

And I (/(> corrur home at (^hriilmas. We all do, or we all sh(.iild. We all come
home, or (uiidit to come; h(»nie, for a short holiday -the h^njjer, the luMter from
the ^'reat boarflinj^-sehool, where we are for ever vvorkinj^ at our arithmetical slates,
to take, and ^(wv. a rest. As to (^oini; a visitin(^, where can we not /;o, if we will ;
where have we not been, when we would ; starling our fancy from cnir Christmas
Tree I

Away into the wint(;r ])ros[)ect. There are many stuli upon tlie tree ! (')n, by
low-lyin^, mi-.ly j^rounrls, throu^di fens and fo(^;s, up Ir)n{; hill,, winding dark as
caverns between thi(,k |)lantations, ahnost shutting out the sparkling stars ; so, out
on broad heights, until we stop at last, with sudden silence, at an avenue. The
gated;ell has a deep, half-awful s(jund in the frosty air ; tlur gale swinjjs open on
its hinges; and, as we drive up U) a great house, the glancing lights grr^w larger
in the windows, and the opjjcjsing r(jws of trees seem to fall solerrmly back on
either side, to give u, place. At intervals, all day, a frightened hare has shf;t
across this whitened turf; ()r the distant clatter of a herd of deer trampling the
hard frost, has, for the minute, crushed the sihrnce \(i<). Their watchful eyes
beneath the fern may be shining n(iW, if we could see them, like the icy dewdropfi
on the leaves ; but they are still, and all is still. And so, the lights growing
larger, and the trees falling back before us, and closing ujj again behind us, as if
to forbid retreat, we come to the hf;use.

There is probably a smell of roasted cliestnuts and other grjod crimforlable thing:;
all the lime, for we are telling Winter Stories — (ihost Stories, or more shame for
lis — roujid the Christinas fir(r ; and we have never stirred, except to draw a little
Jiearcr to it. lUil, no matter f(;r that. We came to the house, and it is an old

iKMtrcH in \]\i',
' • "f I he r.irc.l

<■<•]> ' Wliat

f"rlll (»|| tin;

fi'Mri all ilic
I" .1 ^rouj) of
;i '.far ; a l.ahy
I'll ; i solruiu

I ; ■lii'iin, noar

'»VV'I f)f |/«0|)I(;

'■tlm;j 'lovvii a

II I he vvatf.T to
li a (Iiil'l ii|)Ori
liii'l, ',|)<-cf:li (o

<■, l<(if<wl«:r|/;f
*I'li'T ., a llii( k
-• voice hearfl,

as assrjciati(jn i

; tl.c Kiilc (,(

w. ari'l I'laiitiis

, and nofclio'l,

I the smell of

Ihe tree i-, still

c will he hoys

Yoriflcr they

icrrily, and rny

VV(; all come

10 hetter— from

'irnelical slates,

^o, if we will ;

our (jhrislma.s

tree ! (Jn, by

iiifhng (lark as

; stars ; mo, out

av<.-nue. The

wiu^s f>pen on

its JTow larger

•mrily hack on

hare has shot

trarnolirig the

watchful eyes

L- icy flewflrop'i

''k'hts ^rowin{.j

;ehin(l us, as if

ifortahle thinfjs '
nore shame for .
o draw a little
id it is an old

i

Ciiriilffuii- Tree (ih'jiti.

3^

hoiisf, full of ;^rcaf chimneys wlu re wof»«l i-* tnirnf on nncl'-nt dojjs ii|K»n thr
ju-irlh, and j^ritfi porfraifn ( om*- of th'-m with j^rirn N-fN-ri'h,, too) lowrr di.truHl-
fully from tlic f»ah;n {.and . of th'-walj.. SVr are a middle- i(;»d noldeman, and
we rnak»- a (jenerou^ !sU|i|MT with our }iost and hosletn and their ^Miestn -it \)p\u^\
rhri.tmns '' w\ and the f;Id hoii .»• full of <om|>...)y and tln-n w^ (,'o fo hed. Our
room i. a vr) old rof.m. It i. hini(^ with t.i|i»',tiy. We don't lik«' th'- portrait of
a r .ivalicr in (;r«fri, o\tr tli*- fir»-j)lare. '/ fiere are j;r«'at Mark heams in tli»- (filinjj,
and Ih're n a j;r(af Mack h'rl-fcad, sf![))iortrd at the fof.t l»y two ^reat hinek
fi;;ur» •., who '.e'-m to have com»- off a fou|.'' of tomhs in the old l.aronial (hiirr h in
tlir jiark, for fiiir oarlifiilar arc ommodation. iJul, we arc noi a snpfr^titioiiH nf»!ilc-
man, and we don t tnind. Well I we di-rniss f»ur servant, lock the dr»or, ntul sit
h'forc the fire in our dressinj^; ('''wn, rnii^injj a!i'»iil a j;reat many thiri;^*. At
leii^jtli we {;o to l>ed. Well! wc <an't sh»j». We los, and tiimlde, and ran''
sleep. 'I'Ik; cmlxrs on Ihe hearth luirn hlfiilly and make the r<iom look (diostly.
We can't help pf:epinjj out f»vcr the counterpane, at the two hla* k fitMir<M and tlw
c,ivali<-r- that wicked lookin;^ ravnlier in j;reen. In the flifkerinj^ lif^^ht thry
'.eem to advante aiid retire; whi'h, thoiijdi wc are not hy.'iny mean-, a ^nirf-r^tition-i
nohleman, is not afjreea!»le. Weill we (jet nervoiiv- -more and more nervouH.
We say "This i. very fooli .h, hut we can t stand this ; we'll pretend t<» U; ill, an<l
knock up sfjrnehody." Well I we are ju ,t {;'''"{' '" ''" ''» when tlu: locked door
opens, and there come-, in a yotinjj woman, deadly pale, and with lonj; fair hair,
who {^lifhs to the hre, and sits down in the chair wc have left there, wrinjdnfj her
hands. Tlien, we notice- that her clothr-s are wr-t. Our t')nfMie », leaves to the rof»f
(if our mouth, and we can't sjjcak ; hut, wc observe her acciiratelv. Her clf»theH
are wet ; her Ion},' hair is dahhied with moist n u<l ; she is dressed in the fashion u^
two hundred years a'y> ; and she has at her j;irdl;: a hunch (»f rusty \:vy%. Well !
there she sits, and we can't even faint, we are in such a staff: ahout it. f'rcsentiv
shf; ^jets up, and tries all the locks in the room with the rusty keys, whif:h won t
(it ()ne f*f them ; then, she fix-vs her (.-ye. on tlu; jiortrait of the cavalier in fjreeri,
and says, in a low, terril.le voi( c, "'I'lie stajjs know it I" After that, she wrin^j-.
her hands aj';ain, |)as .<s the hf:d .id<', and j;oes out at the dofjr. We fiurry on our
dressin{;-(:j()wn, seize; (*ur pistols (we always travel with pistf>ls), and are followin^^
when w<; hnd the floor hifkefl. We turn tlur key, hidk f>ut iiitf> thf: flark (jallery ;
nf* fuie there. We waufjer away, nnfl try tf) firi'l fxir servant, (ari't Ix; flf>ne.
We pace the (,'allery till flayl>rf;ak ; then return tf» fiiir flcserfefl room, fall asleep,
anfl are awakencfl hy ()ur servant {u(A\\\u^ f!ver haunts ///>//) anfl thf; shininj^ sun.
Wfdl ! we make a wretfhefl breakfast, aiifl all tlu; (:f)rnpany say we hiok fpieer.
After breakfast, we yjt f>ver the hf>usf: with <>\t hf)St, atul then we take liirn to th*;
l>ortrait c^f the cavalier in gref;n, aii'l then it all cf)rnes CiUt, He was false tf) a
y(n\n\i hf>usf:keef)er f)iif;e attaclu:'! t') that family, anfl famous ff;r her beauty, whf)
cirowric'd herself in a pf>nd, aii'l whfr^f; bfxly was flisef>veref|, after a lon^.^ time,
because the sta^js refused ff) firink (<f the water. .Since which, it has been
whispercfl that she traverses the hfnise at miflnijdit (but jy)es esfK.-cially tf) that rf>fmi
where the cavalier in i^'rccw wsas wont to sleep), tryintj tlie fdfi lf)cks with the rusty
keys. Well ! we tell our host f>f what we have seen, anfl a shadf: cfnnes over his
features, anfl he bcf^'s it may be hushed up ; and .so it is. I'ut, it's all tnte ; an'l
we saifl sf), bf.f'>re wi: (WcA (wfr are fl';afl nf>vv) tfj many respf)nsible pef)ple.

There i-, nf) enfl tf> the fdfl hf;iises, with resouriflin^^ };allerif;s, anfl flismal state-
bed( hambers, anfl hauntefl winfjs shut up for many years, thrf)U}.jh which we may
ramble, with an a{.Mef:abIe crcf^piii}; uj* fair back, anfl encfiun'er any numl>er of
(jhf)Sts, but (it is worthy f>r remark j^erhajis) reflucible tf> a very few j^encral ty|)es
aufl classes; for, ^'hfjsts liave httle firi^jinality, arul "walk" in a beaten track.
Thu.s, it comes to pass, that a certain rf;om in a certain (M hall, whf rf; a certain

r

.1
fl I

[I ' I

.3H

yl Christ mas Tree.

l;acl lor'l, baront't, kiii;flit, or j^ontlcman, sliot himself, Iiris certain plar.ks ia the
llo'jr from which the hl<)o(I 7c'/// //('/ he taken out. N'oii may scrajic aiifl scra()0, as
thf.' |)rc-.ciU owner has «lon'', or ]»lan'! aii'l jdanc, as his father <ii(|, or -.cruli and
scrub, as his f^ran'ifalhcr di'l, or i»inn and hnrn with strong; acid.s, as his f.;rcat-
{.MaM'IfalhiT di'l, Imt, there the blood will still be - no reildir and no paler — no
uio(c and no kv.s -always iii-.l the same. 'I lm->, in such another house there is a
liaunted door, that never will keep open; or another do(jr that never will keep sluil ;
or a haunted sound (.f a spimiin}^-wlieil, or a hammer, or a foot-.tep, or a try, or a
si^di, or a horse's tramp, or the raltlinj^ of a chain. Or el-.e, there is a turret-
dock, whicli, at the midnij^ht hour, strikes thirteen when tlw; head of the family is
j(oin}4 to die ; or a sliadowy, immovable black carriage which at such a time is
always seen l)y sf)mebody, waitini; near the };reat fjales in the stable-yard. Or
thus, it came to pass \\u\\ Lady .\Iary wtMil to pay a visit at a large wild house in
the Scottish Highlands, and, bcin;j .aligned with her long jciurney, retired to Ih;(1
early, and innocently said, next morning, at the bieaklast-tablc, *'iIow oM, to
have so late a party last night, in this remote ])Iacc, and not to tell me of it, before
\ went to bed.'"' Then, every(jne asked J,;idy Slary what she meant? 'i'hen,
Lady Mary replied, ** Why, all night long, the carri.iges were driving round and
round the terrace, underneath my window!" 'i'lien, the owner of the house
turned pale, and so did his l^ady, and (.'harles Macloo lie ol Macdoudle signed
1o Lady Mary to say no more, and every (;ne was silent. After breakfast, C'harles
Macdoodle told Lady Mary that it was a tradili(Mi in the family that those
rumbling carriages on tlu; terrace betokened death. And so it )jr<jved, f(n", two
months afterwards, the Lady (»f the ni.in^ion died. And Lady Mary, who was a
Abaid of Honour at C^ourt, often told this story to the old (,)ueen (Jharlotte ; by
this tf)ken that the f)ld King always said, " 1 "h, eh ? What, what? Ohosts,
ghosts? No such thing, Ji(» such thing!" And never left off raying .so, until he
went to ])ed.

Or, a friend of somebody's whf)m most of us knr)\\', when lie was .^. young man
at colleju;, had a jjarticular friend, with whom he made the compact t'lat, if it were
possible for tin; Spirit to return to this earth after its separation frc^m the l>o(ly, he
of the twain who lirst died, should rea|)pear to the other, in course of time, tins
compact was forgotten by our friend ; the two y^mg men having j^rogressed in life,
aiifl taken diverging [laths that were wide asunder. Hut, one night, many years
afterward^, our friend being in the North of laigland, and slaying f(jr the night in
nn iim, on the \'orkshire Moor>, hapi)ened to hxjk out (jf bed ; and there, in the
moonlight, leaning on a bureau near the window, stedfastly regarding him, .sav/
his old college friend ! The appearance being solemnly addressed, rej>lied, in a
kind of whis])er, but very audibly, "Do not come near me. J am dead. I am
licrc to redeem my promise. I C(;mc from another world, but may not disclose its
.secrets ! " Then, the whole form beoming paler, melted, as it were, into the
moonlight, and faded away.

Or, there was the daughter of the first occui)ier of the ])icturesque T'Uizabethan
house, so famous in our neighbourhood. You have heard about her ? No !
Why, She went out one summer evening at twilight, when she was a beautiful
girl, just seventeen years of age, to gather flowers in the garden ; and j)resently
came running, terrified, inlotlie hall to her father, saying, " ( )h, dear father, I have
met myself! " He took her in his arms, and told her it was fancy, but she said,
"Oh no I 1 met myself in the broad walk, and I was pale and gathering withered
flowers, and 1 turned my head, and held them up ! " And, that night, she died ;
and a jiiclure of her story was begim, though never hni.^hed, and they say it u
somewhere in the house to this day, with its face to the wall.

Or, the uncle of my brother's wife was riding home on liorseback, one mellow

m

|)hit.ks ill thc
iiirl scrape, as
or -.criib :in(l
ns his f.;rcal-
no ])alcr — no
ius(! tliorc ii. a
ill keep sluit ;
or a cry, or a
c is a turret-
r the family is
well a time is
ble-yard. Or
wild house in
retired to l*ed
1 low <;d<l, to
le of il, before
leant? Then,
inj^ round and
of the house
:dotjdle signed
difast, (Iharies
ily that those
oved, for, two
iry, who was a
Ciiarlolle ; l>y
hn.1? (ihosts,
ng so, until lie

a younfj man
t'lat, if it were
1 lliu body, he
,e of time, this

'ressed in lift;,
t, many years

r the aif^ht in
(1 there, in the
lini^ him, saw
, replied, in a

(lead. I arn
Kjt disclose its
were, into the

c Mlizabelhan

lit her? No!

as a beautiful

and i)resently
r father, I have

but she said,

ring withered
j'hl, she died ;

tlic-y say it ii

1., one mellow

The Orphan Boy,

.II*?

evening ftt simsct, when, in a green lane tlo<»c to his own linusc, he saw a man
stan<Iing before him. in the verv centre of the narrow way " Why does that
man in llf <N>:d< -tand there ! he tlioii;;ht. •'Doe-, he want me to rifle oyer
him ?" Hut t!i'- figure never nioved. lb- felt a -.trange sen.-.ation at seeing it so
still, but slackened his Irol and rode forward. When he was so close to il, as
alnio.^t to touch it with his stirni)), his iiorse shird, and llu- figure glided up the
b:iiik, in a curious, uiuMrthly muiiuer -backward, and witlnnit seeming to use its
((.^.t — and w.asgoue. Theunele of my brother's wife, exclaiming, " (Jo(jd I feaven !
It's my cousin Harry, froui iJotubay ! " put s|)urs to hi^ horse, which was sii Idculy
in a profuse swent, and, woiuleriiig at such strange behaviour, dashed round U> the
front of his hou.-e, 'riicre, he saw the same figure, jii.t pa.v^ing in at the long
I'Vench window (jf tin* ilrawing-room, opening on the ground. He threw his
bridle to a servant, and hastened in after it. I Ii, sisti-r was sitting there, alone.
"Alice, Where's my cousin Hurry?" " \'our cousin Harry, John?" '*\'es.
From I'ombay. \ met him in the lane just now, and saw him enter here, this
instant." Not a creature \y.\'\ been seen by any one; and in that hour and minute,
as it afterwards apjieared, this cousin died in India.

<^)r, it was a certain sensible old maiden lady, who died at ninety-nine, and
retained her faculties to tlie last, who really did see the ()r])Iian Hoy ; a story which
has often been iiKorrectly l(j|d, but, f)f wliich the real truth is this — because it is,
in fact, a story belonging to cnir family -and she was a comiexion of our f.imily.
When she was about forty years (;f age, and still an uncommonly fine woman (her
lover died young, which was the renson why she never married, though she had
many offers), she wi.-iit to stay at a place in Kent, which her brother, an Indian-
Merchant, had new ly bought. There was a story that this ])lace had once been
held in trust, by the guaiflian of a young bf)y ; who was hinv.elf the next heir,
and who killed the young boy by harsh and cruel treatment. She knew nothing
of that. It has been said that there Vv'as a ("age in her bed-room in which the
guardian used to ])ut the b(jy. There was no such thing. There was only a closet.
She went to bed, made no nlarni whatever in tlu- night, and in the morning said
com[)osedly to her ni.'iid when she came in, *' Who is the pretty forIorn-l(»(jking
child who has been peeping out <;f that closet all night?" The maid rejilied by
giving a loud scream, and instantly decamping. She was suri)rised ; but she was
a woman of remarkable strength (jf niiiifl, and she dressed herself and went down
stairs, and closeted herself willi her biollier. '* Now, Walter," she said, " I have
been disturbed all niglit by a pretty, forlorn-looking boy, who has been constantly
j)eeping out of that'closet in my room, which I can't open. This is some trick."
" I am afraid not, Charhjtte," said he, " for it is the legend of the house. It is
the Orphan i!oy. What did he do?" "He opened the door softly," said she,
"and ])eeped fjiit. Sometimes, he came a step or two into the room. Then, I
called to him, to encoumge him, and he shrunk, and shuddered, and crept in
again, and shut the door." " The closet has no communication, (Jharlotte,' said
her brother, "with any other j)art of the house, nnd it's nailed uj)." This was
undeiMably true, and it t')ok two cnr[)enters a whole forenoon to get it open, for
examination. Then, she was satisfied that she had seen the Or[)lian I'(;y. I'ut,
the wild and terrible jiart f)f the story is, that he was also seen by three of her
brother's srtns, in succession, who all died young. On the occasion of each child
l)eing taken ill, he came home in a heat, twelve liours before, and said, (jh,
Mamma, he had been jilaying unrler a particular oak-tree, in a certain mc.aflow,
with a strange boy — a j)relty, ffjrlorn-lookmg Ixjy, who was very timid, and made
sign.-, ! I'roin fatal experience, the par'.-nt.^ came to know that this was the Orphan
])<;y, and that the course ol that child whom he chose for his little playmate was
surely run.

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15 .

v6

-<4 Chrisimas Tree.

)L

Legion is llu; name of the (It-Tman castles, wlierc \vc sit up .ilone t(; wait for tl
Spectre — where we are sliowii into a room, made comparatively cheerful for oi
recejUion — where we ^'lance round at tlie shadows, thtown on the f>hink wall-, 1
llie cracklinj^ fire— where we feel very lonely when tHt vil!a;^e innkeeper and ii
pretty dau^diter have retired, after layinj^ down a fresh store (jf vv(jo?1 upon lii
iiearth, and settinj,' forth on the small table sueh su|)i)cr-cheer as a told roast cajtoi
bread, f;rapes, and a llask enfold Khine wine — where the reverljeratinij; floors chx
on their retreat, one after another, like so many peals of sullen !hunder — and wheti
about the small hours of the night, we c(jme into the kiKuvIedge of divers su[)e
natural mysteries. Le}:;ion is the name of the haunted German. students, in whf)s
society we draw yet nearer to the hre, while the schoolboy in the corner (;pens.h
eyes wide and round, and Hies off the footstf)ol he ha!s chosen fpr his seat, when th
door accidentally blows ojK-n. Vast is the crop of such fruit, shinintj on ou
(.Christmas Tree; in blossom, almost at the very top; ripening all down th
bought ! .

Among the later toys and fancies hanging; there — as idle often and less ])urc — 1
the images once associated with the sweet 6ld Waits, the softened music in the
night, ever unalterable ! Encircled by the social thoughts of Christmas time, still
let the benignant figure of my -hildhood stand nncliAngeWf In every cheerful
image and suggestion that the sea-.on brings, may the bright star that rested above
the poor roof, be the star ojf all the (Jhrislian World! A inomenl's pause, O
vanisliing tree, of which the lower boughs are dark to me as yet, and let me look
once more ! I know there arc blank spaces on thy branches, w)iere eyes that 1
liave loved, have shone and smiled ; fnnn which they are de])arted. liCit, far
above, i see the raiser of the dead girl, and the Widow's St)n ; and God is gfjod !
If Age be hiding for me in the unseen portion of thy downv.ard growth, (J may I,
with a grey liead, turn a cliild's heart t(; that figure yet, and a child's trustfulness
and contulence ! , ,

Now, the tree is decorated with bright merriment, ■•nd song, and dance, and
cheerfulness. And they .are welcome. Iiinq?;ent aiul welcume b« tii'-y ever ht:Id,
beneath theliranches of the ("hristmas Tree, which cast iio-4^(jomy shadow ! J]ut,
as it sinks into the ground, I'.hCar a whisj)ev going throughAlu.- leaves. " This, in
conmicmoration of the law (>f love and kindnesb^ mercy and coanpassion. This, in
remembrance i^f Me ! " * . ,

THE END".

■«V^

».v

I'ltlNTKl) BV Vll'.lLi: AM) CO., CM V IIdAD, LoNDuX.

ft

n

(

(sit up alone to wait f.,r the
iparativc-ly diccrful for our
'vvn on the Wank walls h^
i villa;.;c innkeeper and his
h store of \V(;ofl upon the
■cheer as a cold roast caj)on,
e reverljeratiiifr doors clase
sulluil !hunder- and where,
knowledge of divers super-
German. students, ill whose
Ixjy in the corner o]>ens.his
losen for his seat, when the
uch fruit, shining on our
' ; ripening all down the

lie often and less pure— he
llie softened music in the
lis of Christinas time, still
^ngeUr in every cheerful
iglxt star that rested above
! A moment's pAuse, ()
le as yet, and let me look
ranches, w)iere eyes that I
^ are departed. JJut, far
's Son ; and God is good !
vvnv/ard growth, () may I,
and a child's trustfulness

nd song, and dance, and
clcome h(t tlvy ever hi;ld,
lio-.gt(jomy shafiow ! J]ut,
^hAlu: leaves. "This, in
uid cujupassion. This, ia

,<i%

I

OM>uJ(.

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